Where the Magic Happens

He tells it now, but it is hard to fathom;
The light is in her eyes, but Lord knows why —
The strange enthusiasms of their mem’ries,
They can’t communicate, but still, they try —

But many things we love look bad in pictures,
And treasured can be average, humdrum days:
For in the head is where the magic happens,
Then in the heart it goes, and there
It stays

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “Where the Magic Happens”

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