I can still remember when magic ruled the world,
Barefoot dances on softened earth,
A crown, a dress, a twirl.
Springtime brought us vibrant hues of every shade,
Kaleidoscopes of radiance,
A painter’s palette made.
In Summer we were mermaids with pink and yellow tails,
We sang our siren songs
And frolicked in our scales.
Autumn brought us piles of leaves to dive into.
We were explorers seeking shelter
Under the red and golden dew.
Winter was when sorcery was truly in the air,
As powdered white swept down from heaven,
Enthralling us within its snare.
I wonder when we lost this spark within ourselves.
When did twirling become faded,
A memory we held?
When did flowers dull their colors,
Their brilliance lost and gone?
When did the painter deep inside us
Lose her will to carry on?
Why aren’t our lungs still singing?
When did we lose our tails?
When did the water peak
And our dreams refuse to sail?
The dew, now nothing more than wet,
The gold now lacking luster,
And red and orange have met their fate in rust,
The only thing that they could muster.
And yet, there is an ember
Of enchantment burning bright.
Inside the icy wind
That comes with Winter’s night.
Cold inhales a frosty breath,
And kisses when it blows.
Then magic stirs to life,
Awakening as snow.
