Abracadabra

 

Abracadabra. I wish I had a magic wand to wave over everything that needs sorting out at home. When the time is right, it will all fall into place – I keep telling myself.

When I was eight, I really wanted a magic set. My birthday, then Christmas came and went, and still no magic set. I don’t know why I wanted one because I didn’t like magicians. David Nixon doing tricks didn’t appeal to me at all and I thought Tommy Cooper was being silly. What did I know at eight years old? I was invited to a school friend’s birthday party, which I was excited about. My mother bought a gift for me to take. A magic set. I think my reaction was to call my mum ‘a cheeky madam’. My feet didn’t touch the floor from one room into another and I was suitably chastised. Threatened with missing the party, I remained on my very best behaviour and when the day of the party arrived, I was pleased to be allowed to go.

I don’t think the lack of owning a magic set stunted me in any way. I’m still not a fan of magicians, though, regardless of their skill.

I found this poem,

The Art of Illusion

Amazing crowds, just like that

Pulling rabbits from a hat

Producing coins from your ear

Making tigers disappear.

Doing card tricks for a laugh

Sawing assistants in half

It’s abracadabra presto,

The Magician’s Manifesto.

By Randy Freie.

 

Here's one of mine, from a few years ago,

The Love Spell

She visited after midnight

And I listened to what she said.

Her voice was quiet and distant

For she was seven decades dead.

Her threadbare clothes were shades of black,

Her knitted shawl faded to grey.

Old eyes, soft in her wizened face

Still had a kind and gentle way.

 

I adored my great-great grandma,

Her ghost brought me no fear.

She always knew what I needed

And I loved to sense her so near.

She said, “I believe I can help

I know of a very old spell.

Come sit a-while beside me

And write it all down as I tell.

 

“Get some milk thistle and nettle,

Buttercup, daisy and clover.

Leave it to rest in rose water

Until the petals turn over.

Slowly stir in bramble honey,

A splash of dandelion wine

And sprinkle the seeds of the poppy

While you sing ‘Oh Let Him Be Mine’.”

 

“You want him so much,” she whispered.

“This spell will bring him along.

He will love you as you love him

And together you will belong.

Follow instructions exactly,

Choose every item with great care

And take your time, do not hurry,

Be of glad mind as you prepare.”

 

Her cold, hard fingers stroked my face

And I felt the warmth of her love.

Her presence drifted out of sight,

Carried floating somewhere above.

She’d died long before I was born,

Yet she was always there for me.

I am blessed to share the blood-line

Of a free spirit such as she.

 

                    *

 

The spell worked. We’ve been married forever and a day.

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x