What’s become of
forgotten & magical things?
All those small,
insignificant & discarded things,
Shells of long
gone snails & old firefly´s wings,
Bees who have
flown away & lost their stings.
What´s become of
those hoary nighted gowns?
Spun of spider´s
webs, upon old mossy downs,
Within moonlit
hedgerows, upon nature´s looms,
Knitted in hopes
& promises, upon raven´s tombs.
What´s become of
bronze lizard´s discarded tails?
Of mermaid´s purses
& spewed breath of whales,
Of ancient witches
prayers & toad´s silken spawn,
And what about the
elk´s & Pan´s dropped horns?
What´s become of
that magic, lost & now forgotten?
In the annals of
time & mulch, gone, now so rotten,
Yet within the mind´s
eye, still so alive, so very real,
So easy to find,
to see, to hear & easier yet to feel.
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