When the Clock Chimes Dusk

When I was a child

I would pretend the world was magic.

I would pick up a paintbrush

and paint light across the sky

when the clock chimed dusk.

Fluffy clouds magically became unicorns

galloping toward the sun.

As the moon said hello

I would dance in glitter

hanging starlight in the dark.

A blade of grass became a woodwind

in the symphony of tweeting pianos

and cricket violins.

And as my 38th trip around the sun approaches

I realize the magic

of holding onto such childlike wonders.

For I have witnessed the souls

that somehow lost the magic

along the way.

The souls that fail to see the beauty

in a crickets song

the glitter in the dark

and the human spirit in anyone

who fades into the background.

I will always find the magic

and the beauty

and the wonder

in every moment

for even when I am lost

I know all I have to do is simply look up

and hang my starlight

and paint my sky

when the clock chimes dusk.

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