She is more magical
than a sticky-winged butterfly
unfolding from its hard shell,
the vivid arc of a bright rainbow
after the storm,
the muscular power of a thoroughbred
thundering across a field,
a full silver moon sailing
across a velvet night sky,
a virgin fall of powdery snow
awaiting my skis,
the scent of freshly cut grass
at the end of a summer’s day,
a glass of brunello di montalcino
sipped by the fire,
the staccato gunfire of high heels
crossing a marble floor,
a newly emerged desert flower
ephemeral in the sand.
She is more magical
than fervent wishes
unexpectedly coming true.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Not a new post. But sometimes there is magic.
Art by Gianni Strino
