Monday, November 8, 2010

Magic Prompt - We Write Poems


When ideas run out,
time is up, heart sinks,
mind races, soul hides,
magic calls neighbor to stop
her car in random parking lot
to wrap me in sustaining hug.
Magic manifests utterly
unexpected dividend check
just enough to replace sewage
system the day bath tubs back up.
Magic keeps my feet moving,
forces me to put on the second
shoe when I would choose to quit,
to die, to lose my life in missing you.
Magic is the pattern that connects,
bigger than me, infinite mystery.

Victoria Hendricks
November 8, 2010

3 comments:

  1. I like the last sentence...."Matic is the pattern that connects, bigger than me, infinite mystery." I can identify with that@

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  2. Victoria, I really like the way you look at magic!

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  3. I'm so glad you are open to the magic in life, Victoria.

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