I once believed in magic,
as a tiny tot,
for you could not tell me there was not.
I once believed I had a magic rabbit,
who would dance and play and sing,
and do such silly things.
A stuffed toy could not bring such joy,
would have said that little boy,
for he is as magical as can be,
don’t you see?
I grew older and upon the shelf,
I placed that rabbit along with Santa and his elfs,
for they were not real,
and that rabbit could not touch nor taste nor feel.
Another child found upon that self,
that old stuffed bunny that once belonged to myself,
it danced and played and sang,
and for that child did so many other silly things.
It was magic don’t you see,
for the magic was once again set free.
We all believe those things we touch and feel and see,
but a child’s innocence brings far more glee,
for all things are possible when seen,
through the magic eyes
of those things inbetween thine eyes,
for it is there where the true magic lies.
I believe in magic for I have seen myself,
the magic fairies and the tiny little elfs,
and through the closet to Wonderland,
the tiny stuffed rabbit takes me by the hand,
and if you can believe such things,
wouldn’t life be just grand.
Magic through a child’s eyes.