• Magic
    Another idea lost in modern times,
    Replaced with societies everyday climbs.

    Though I've not forgotten the feeling,
    Where everything was new,
    The sky was my ceiling,
    And my imagination flew

    A time where every breath was fresh,
    And even in the darkness a light shone.
    A time ingrained in my flesh,
    Ingrained in my bone.

    Yet time flashes by,
    And the feeling begins to fade,
    You forget how to fly,
    Your wings, lost in lifes unfortunate trade.