Chandelier

Somewhere high, up above, an angel sheds tears

Heaves a cold sigh and looks down upon the Earth,

And just like that, snowflakes millions and precious

Become my chandelier.

Mirrors, crystals and reflections galore

A glint here, a flash there

A hint of moonlight,

Dark walls lit up like forests by fireflies.

Woven around a single thought of love

A dream hanging preciously,

Alone in the countless specks of glittery light

Bizarre reflections splashed across hopelessly.

Sparkling with love for a boy afar

She waits with hope, for the boy with dreams in his eyes.

The angel looks upon and smiles

And at his lips, her last tear dies.

Magic

What is Magic, really? But then it is the unreal, that is magic. Isn't it?                                                        
That which is not, in which we believe. That's magic.                                                                                    
That which is so fleeting, that it holds our attention. That's magic.                                                                
That which, the more you try to solve, the more disillusioned you get. That's magic.                                      

And love is magical, they say.