Poem: Magic -- Ronald W. Hull

Magic

It must've been magic,
it couldn't have been a dream.
I saw her on a crowded street,
or maybe, a village green.

What struck me was her beauty,
to others, still unseen.
When her eye turned my way,
I melted like the scene.

I dreamed of her forever,
or at least a life or two.
Her magic deep inside of me,
an illness with no cure.

For she was not my station,
beyond my reach or touch,
and though I ruled the nation,
I could not ask that much.

It may have been her boyfriend,
or her husband close at hand.
She may have cast me with disdain,
Magic melting into sand.

Whatever my choices,
I couldn't find a cure.
For magic lives forever,
in a place that never were.

When I get down and lonely,
filled with fear and doubt.
I remember her filled with beauty,
and want to scream and shout.

But a whimper, is all,
that comes out.

“You’re Beautiful”