At night my mother would read me a story,

Tales about nights, kings all seeking for glory.

I sat down, half asleep, my eyes sore,

I listened intently, legs-crossed on the floor.

Some of the stories were terribly tragic,

Others included wizards and magic.

Magic, my favourite thing,

Oh, wat fun magic would bring.

If we were all wizards no one would cry,

We’d laugh in glee as we fly through the sky!

No one will be sad and evil won’t exist,

Because of all the magic we keep in our fists.

I would save all the damsels from beasts,

And after dig in to magical feasts!

I exclaimed, “It is really tragic,

It isn’t possible to have magic.”

“Of course it’s possible!” Mother spoke,

She positively nodded and gave the book a poke.

She said, “One day, you’ll find it,

And once you do there will be no limit!”

Thoughts whirled in my small head,

As I lay down into my comfy bed.

I thought, It’s just hidden, in the sky or burried deep.

I kept thinking and soon, fell asleep.

_(Just a little fun thing I wanted to write!)_