You: Magic is gone from these days.
Me: You don't truly look, do you?
Magic lies
in our miracles,
in our sunny days,
in the simplest things,
in us.
You: What miracles?
And me, I laugh. I tell you
of what I know:
Christ came back,
Seemingly dead rise again,
Survivors of war come home.
You: What makes a sunny day magical?
Me: When you wake up to see
things beyond the window,
How everything sparkles,
How the land arranges into beauty,
How the sky stretched on, endless.
You: I don't see magic in simple things.
Me: Yes, you do.
You find them
When you hug a loved one,
When someone wipes away your tears,
When you jump into autumn leaves,
When you realize you can't count all the stars,
but try anyway,
When that flower grows in your windowsill,
Even by wearing
your favorite socks,
the magic is stirred.
You: I think I understand . . .
but what do you mean,
"in us?"
Me, I just smile.
Me, I lean in closer,
Me, I leat my arms creep around you.
You,
you kiss me back.
MAGIC
I think we both felt it stir
a little faster.