The raging tempest dissolved into clear blue skies,
Giving way to another sunrise.
The chameleon mountains changed their colour to golden,
This came as no surprise.
The wind wafted the fragrance of dew, wildflowers and coffee.
Last night’s banter had needed a referee.
The green meadows turned a shade lighter, a shade brighter.
The chill of the morning kept at bay by a hug that grew tighter.
The trees bloomed with the colour of ripened love.
The Dragon turned into a docile dove.
Fire fell in love with the wind.
The mountain courted the wild river.
This magic was older than time,
It has its own games that cannot be survived by using your mind.
The worldly enlightened cannot fathom the ancient magic
They cannot leave reason behind.
Tis not true that love happens only once.
If it wills, it will find you again,
It is magic.