come on. spill it. you know you want to.

tell me how you weave your magic. and don’t say you lack the beans to bewitch.

we all have them.

some are just deeply creviced, cardiganed behind a lifestyle of bland tasting humble pie.

show me your stuff.

do you glitter and glue? paint pictures so pretty girls grab their chests?

can you muse each and all into a runway silhouette with your fashion finesse?

do giggles and whoop trail your funny bone every where you trek?

does your sweet sounding soprano have the songbirds weeping with envy, as you lullaby the babes to sleep?

are you a guardian?

do you tend and soothe? balming broken hearts or scabbed knees?

can you wax rhapsodic with the shake of your hips?

do you write the words that make the whole world sing?

or do you writhe your sorcery into soufflés and sticky rice?

can you bring the beauty out of already the most beautiful?

maybe you don’t yank rabbits from black top-hats or time travel into centuries passed.

but your powers are marvelous and impacting.

find yours, you have more than two…i know, and celebrate them madly.

the planet is a thirsty, dried out, dying fern waiting to thrive from a sprinkle of your magic.

if only a kind smile.

even if i haven’t seen your face {although lucky for me many of you i have} or shared an afternoon of coffee;

you all, in your silent and not so silent ways, add magic to my life.

thank you m’loves.