Sounds Of Eternal Magic

You left your magic wand
In your other purse. You walk
The streets, not levitating
Above it like you normally do.
You’ve been brought down
To the level of the rest
Of us mere mortals.

At the bar, you order
A witches brew, but the
Bartender mishears you,
And plays Miles Davis’
“Bitches Brew” instead.
You don’t get your drink,
But you jam along anyway;
Fingernails tapping jazz
On the counter top.

Your hips sway in your stool,
As your mind swoons.
Eyes latch on to your every
Movement, but you ignore them.
You’re captivated, taken
To a place beyond comprehension.
A land of fiery tornadoes
And soft surf beaches.

In your rapture, you realize
Your wand is simply
An accessory; that the magic
Exists inside you, eternally.

Copyright 2012
A. J. Hayes
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