Magic Is a Silly Thing

Magic is a silly thing, or so my father said
As he’d tuck me in at night and pat me on the head.
But in the dark and quiet night things stirred beneath my bed.
They’d scratch and shake and bang and thud filling me with dread.

Till one night my sleeplessness I could take no more
I crawled beneath my oaken bed, upon the dusty floor.
Past old games and broken toys I found a tiny door.

On ancient rusted creaking hinges the door opened to my sight
Where tiny voices and little hands welcomed me into warm light
Leprechauns and Fairies played, while trolls and goblins danced
Griffons roared, Chimera’s shimmered and silvery Unicorns pranced.

My little head was spinning round my heart leapt within my breast
And though my spirit longed to stay, my body needed rest.
Through fairy dust and magic spells they chanted, “Homeward Bound!”
A snap of light and a crack of sound and was in my bed I found

Imagination or a dream, there was no door beneath my bed
I wept for it had been the sweetest thing to ever fill my head.
As I stuck my hand beneath my pillow, something round and hard I did hold.
I held it up to blue moonlight and saw the glint of fairy gold.

A tiny smile lit upon my face as I lay back down in bed
Magic is a silly thing. . .or so my father said.