Magic

It was magic,

what you and I had.

Ended up being tragic,

but that never made us mad.

The sheer ecstasy that your presence gave me

was enough to bring a high

and fill me with glee

under the bright sun of july.

It was magic,

not a summer fling.

It had no logic,

how you brought out that ring.

But like all wondrous magic,

the show had to end.

I pulled close the curtains' fabric,

and tried not to condescend.

We were magic,

light and happy and free.

Whimsical and spontaneous and euphoric.

But that was the end of you and me.