Black Magic, I shall name you thus,
For you are rare indeed,
So separate from all of us,
As if a noble breed...
A panther with a haughty smile,
As if with secrets hid,
Yet with the looks that quite beguile
Despite the things you did...
Though I look on with eyes bewitched,
In awe at what I see,
I stay while you remain transfixed
And not chase after me...
To watch you there has calmed my soul,
The pace you set makes sense,
Why run around, lose self-control,
Instead of making friends?
Is that your plan? To take life slow?
No enemies to make?
Allow this man some time to know,
To simply take a break?
If yes, I owe you one in this,
A share of grace to give,
A chance for peace, a chance for bliss,
To live and yet let live...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2014.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting by
Stephen Gayford, nb Google search gayfordgallery.
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