Morning Magic by Stephen Thompso Magic heard the cr as it was painting the morning sky. Swiftly it swooped to the newborns bed and gently peered into its head The valleys and crags of grey matter were a playground of fast-moving light What a human would see doesn't matter; for Magic the patterns were bright It waited but a second observin then held out a brush of light. Colourful words of powe it painted across the drab landscape Then Magic went back to painting the sky and introducing the beauty of night The fast moving lights got stronger sometimes and jumped to run on the word and from these jumps mankind created music, words, and the arts Next time some writing or art or music awakens a chord in your sou tip your hat to the possibilities written by magic on a baby's awakening brain.
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