The tales and whispers of magic ,
Quite the road we travelled ,
Quite somethings here and there tragic ,
Rather in the world had we lost an instrument
The one which tuned the mirkle notes of panic
One which was holy,
One the kind smuogic ,
Maybe we were on a trail to something ,
Leaving behind the stars and simplicity of the habit,
Dear me , dear you
Where be our Genie ,
The one who ticked the arctic ?
For the moments we ministrelled
Together in the room locked with pixy dust and a magical carpet,
The layed underground stars
Tore the ground apart
And made the sceno sparsic
For then it was his shake of the jar
He encrusted his heart in larkings ,
He was the mist , he was the shadow
Of our ‘bundant love to magic .
For all has travelled a time
We walked swift and loss the timeless happiness argent
We doom now the facade
Of all the beautiful things we vanded
For now it seems the land afar is far more crowded
The shadows of love ,
The wings our hearts do seem so more afar grounded ,
For, if , we had believed the reckless bond of the rings of supernatural band – aids ,
It was our cure , it was so adorned , so happy the sparkles of ours were ,
Where be our Genie ?
where be our moments of heartness ?
Or maybe was our Genie
Our souls that were down in our mindset
Something is perhaps lost , dear my , for maybe the genie can’t make our hearts
Go strokeless .
– Aryan Jain
Daily prompt word -Genie