The Magician

I used to be a magician those days. 

Days and nights worked around the clock 

To make them look at me as a heavenly being 

And to make our tummies feel good. 

  

My 'abracadabra' made their hands restless, 

And the craftiest men watched me closely. 

Their eyes mirrored their astonishment, 

And that's the best reward ever. 

  

Flashy things appeared from nowhere, 

Things vanished into thin air before the sight, 

All eyes were curious to find things gone, 

And the magician carried on unaffected. 

  

Proliferation of money from empty trunks, 

Knife strokes that leave no injury, 

And a lot more superhuman marvels... 

I took them in hand as easy as a teacup. 

  

I was no magician in real life for my family; 

Never multiplied anything except those smiles. 

I walked away often empty-handed, 

With hardly anything but mere passion. 

  

It's effortless to make the huge, empty caskets full, 

But laborious to fill the little aching stomachs. 

I walked out before the curious smiles faded. 

I was no magician who brought magic in life. 

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