Presto Chango

 
Once those words were magic
a mirror showing my reflection
in a different reality
a little lost, a little found
and I was enchanted

Spellcraft is not meant for the reckless
and clumsy hands
let the curtain fall
to reveal machinations
as tricks tumbled from sleeves

Truth was fantasy
hidden between bold phrases
and seductive imagery

The lines and curves now bereft
of meaning beyond dictionary definition
coax no more feeling
than instructions on my tax forms
leaving me bewitched
by how quickly fascination
became boredom