BelievingA Poem by Hillary MarieI felt bad about not having ANYTHING posted, so I dusted off this scrap of a free-verse poem and threw it on here. I'm really not a poet but everybody's got at least a few poems lying around, right?Believing By Hillary Marie
I'm too old now - many years too old - to believe in the monsters under the bed. And the ghosts in the attic are long gone - except for sometimes in my nightmares.
Too old to believe in the tooth fairy's hand under my pillow, Too old to believe in Santa Claus slipping under the tree.
It's a little sad, I guess, this business of being all grown up. But I still believe in magic.
How can you not? A summer night - smell of sunlight still caught in your hair even as the darkness settles, broken by fireflies like fairylights.
A thunderstorm overhead, low rumbles of thunder the whispers of the children who play in the clouds. Rain drumming like pixie-fingers against your bare skin, the lady in the moon, laughing, singing, peeking out from behind a gray veil of clouds.
Just magic.
Feel of wet green grass under your toes, brush of faint warm breeze tickling your arms. Sitting on your porch watching lightning zigzag across the sky in the distance, and wishing you could catch some of it, keep it forever because it won't last.
I think it's a mark of achievement to be old enough to know that magic isn't real and believe in it anyway. © 2010 Hillary MarieReviews
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Added on August 1, 2010Last Updated on August 2, 2010 AuthorHillary MarieThrough the looking glass, ILAboutHi, I'm Hillary. I love to travel. I aspire to live abroad. I am sick to death of the suburb that I live in. Proud pagan. Please don't try to convert me. I get enough of that at home. Happy Lugh.. more..Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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