Waiting for magic,
magic in the eyes,
magic that flies
across skies.
Magic, because
it’s improbable
next to impossible.
Magic, because
it’s implausible
every piece breakable.
More than ever
magic, because it
is not fixable.
Magic that seems
to have travelled
circumference,
but to the center
indifferent.
Magic for
it makes everything
solvable,
believable.
Magic,
for once.
The Wordcastle 