I was the magic
keeping your heart of ice alive
but no spell of animation
can grant the ability to love
I was the shapeshifter
adapting in such fluid motions
but in no shape or form
could I ever earn your trust
I was the spark of imagination
lighting up your mind
but not even with these ideas
running wild inside of me
could I have foreseen
this lacklustre an ending.
YOU ARE READING
Old Words
PoetryA collection (and selection) of my old poetry. If you want to read some of my more recent work, check out The Magic Of Poetry, An Abundance Of Haiku or Bright.
