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in the mundane
Fairies in the falling rain,
Flights of birds
become Goblin spies
A little bell rings
when a demon dies.
A masque becomes
a horror-ballet
The weak in strong
winds swept away
Like autumn leaves
in mid-October,
When fall becomes t
he new torch holder
Seasons swing
and time ticks by
A little girl born,
and an old man dies.
Holding hands
and softly kissing,
Then to part,
a magic missing,
As we go about
our seperate days
The things she said
plays and replays
In the back of my mind,
what more could there be
Then you at home
Thinking about me?
This is magic,
The love of ages
When hearts and souls
Break their cages
And fly together
Into the sky
A happy couple,
A happy sigh.
What more could
magic be, than that
she said she cared for me?