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Literature Text
Everyday Magic
Is the dawning of a new day;
That first ray of sunshine
Bursting through the window to warm your soul.
Everyday Magic
Is that first deep breath
On a cold, frosty morning
As you walk through the snow in the dead of winter.
Everyday Magic
Is the laughter of a child
As they stare in awe
At the beauty of a butterfly floating on the breeze.
Everyday Magic
Is the bond shared
Between two childhood friends
Reminiscing in the late afternoon sun of a summer day.
Everyday Magic
Is the love of a child.
That warm, soothing feeling
When they say "I love you" and hug you tight.
Everyday Magic
Is knowing that every moment is a gift
That grows in value the more you share it.
Is the dawning of a new day;
That first ray of sunshine
Bursting through the window to warm your soul.
Everyday Magic
Is that first deep breath
On a cold, frosty morning
As you walk through the snow in the dead of winter.
Everyday Magic
Is the laughter of a child
As they stare in awe
At the beauty of a butterfly floating on the breeze.
Everyday Magic
Is the bond shared
Between two childhood friends
Reminiscing in the late afternoon sun of a summer day.
Everyday Magic
Is the love of a child.
That warm, soothing feeling
When they say "I love you" and hug you tight.
Everyday Magic
Is knowing that every moment is a gift
That grows in value the more you share it.
Literature
notesleep
playing my emphases like harp strings
your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble
pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained
mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds,
hands small holes right before a rush of river
what it feels like being swallowed from the outside
crushing rings into truth serum, pretend
to be out of tune with that deception
I have been unable to parse my own persona
a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone
I remember because it formed me into a granary
one crop after another of patriarchal idioms
whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair
a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper
I practice radical self lo
Literature
backwards
i lived backwards today
i pictured my house turned inside out so that all the curtains shielded the sun from me,
and the windows were no longer behind bars. they opened and closed like blinking eyes.
nobody spoke. not even spoken to. i knew all the answers but my mouth caved in on itself.
you were no longer behind every thought; you drifted in and out like a ghost but didn't disturb me.
Literature
Metaphor
The sun sets beyond the horizon,
and I start to trek...
I imagine the concrete structures covered in green,
Life found a way and wrapped itself around death,
leaving it breathing...
and I fill it with metaphores,
but we cut life down,
to rebuild with that which does not prespire...
Society lives by this philosophy of death, and we destroy, and we rebuild, and we destroy, and we rebuild, So when the sun goes below the horizon, I create a new rhythm, and I guess you can say that's a metaphor,
except the sound my shoes walking, running treading,
the wind...
the waves...
the rain...
This is my rhythm.
I find this within shadows,
and
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#48 in the 100 Theme Challenge
Magic can be found in everyday moments.
Magic can be found in everyday moments.
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Comments2
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Excellent and the repetitive format gives it more power and meaning.