Magician’s Friend

Sometimes you disappear

did you know?

like a dove

my magician’s friend.

I wonder then,

my heart shapeshifts,

a sniffer dog it searches


for you.

I know nothing

But what I see here,

 in my kennel of supposition and assumption.

Where are you pretty friend?

Where is my heart’s compliment?

Could you be,

drinking teas from China?

Eating chocolate pieces?

Underneath the tree with




Will you re-appear

like a bunny,

and leave me a symbol

of life’s



In your feathers

and mesmerising sequins

I feel you

deftly leaving

a brush-mark intangible.

50 thoughts on “Magician’s Friend”

      1. In Wales but often in NZ and Perth where have family and friends. Yes, its difficult to stop tweaking a work and just stop! I didn’t mean to imply any criticism of your work, just that different minds see different patterns in the same thing. I remind myself that japanese garden artists often put a small imperfection in so they will not make a big one (karma or something).


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