My poems

Phoenix

Risen from the ashes

The smoke is its home

The flickering flames shield it

So it is unknown

The bird of red

The bird of fire

A Phoenix

No... they don't exist

They are mythological

They are a false truth

For no bird can be reborn

Yet something drops

A feather of magnificent plumage

I see the flash of an eye

It can't be

Magic a whisper carries

Glance from one side to the other

No sound apart from the crackle of flames

I gulp

Do phoenixes exist?

Slowly I turn and back away

A soft caw is heard

Echoing in the room

A sudden chuckle

Magic is repeated softly

I arch on eyebrow

Hallucination

A feather slowly drops down

Vibrant red, with gold surrounding it

I pick it up, fingers trembling

A swish of wind passes through me

Glancing up, I see a bird

With feathers like flames

Soaring into the fire

It turns, and a dark black eye meets mine

Magic it croaks.

Magic is how we exist

Magic is how we are reborn

The flames are my home

I am a phoenix

A bird of fire

Keep your faith in me

And keep an open mind

Then it is gone

Consumed by the flames

I pick the feather up, gulping

That... was a phoenix

It was real- not unknown

I look down at the feather

Warm to the touch

Suddenly I smile.

"Magic," I say, pocketing the feather.