The magician toiled laboriously
at the withered, ancient table,
mixing his elements and his spells
seeking a potion of love if able.
He chanted a muse of incantation
while lightning danced from his fingertips.
He remembered the beauty he once loved,
and the gentle kiss of her ruby lips.
He sought so very long and hard,
this effort his strength did drain.
Yet, his spirit fought to find this love,
lest his whole life be lived in vain.
Many tomes of spells he searched,
endless day meeting endless night.
The magician struggled for the right mixture
that would bring his heart's love to light.
By fireside he blended oleander and bay,
to passion flower for the potion ...
hoping to deliver his love to his heart,
for eternal love he had such devotion.
By golden moonlight, he further chanted,
as the last dragon soared overhead.
Hoping by morning his love would arrive
by his side in his down-feathered bed.
So, pray for this love-lorn magician,
that soon he may find love's peace.
And with his eternal companion of love,
his loneliness and demons will cease.
06/04/99 © "Chelle"