I can see the child in her,

I can see swingsets where,

Tiny feet dangle,

The cold air nipping at her legs,

She turns puddles playful,

As she splish splashes them all over the sidewalk,

Her rainboots comets,

Smacking down those tiny oceans,

Spilling sea shells into my hand,

She smiles sweet like candy canes,

She laughs lovely like lavender,

Without her a walk is just a walk,

I don't see the cinnamon square streets,

Or the gingerbread houses,

The dandelions don't smile back,

The trampolines and diving boards,

Are just mattresses left out for trash,

I've checked between the couch cushions,

Under the carpet which surely takes flight,

No fairy dust.

No propeller.

Just her,

Those story- telling eyes,

Whichever potion she applied to her neck,

It's always her,

And whatever magic she was born with,

The magic I felt when we first met,

Beating those drums in my chest,

Singing me smitten the first night,

She is a symphony,

 Ringing in my ears,

She is a dance party,

blistering my feet,

She's a magician,

I don't go a day without her spell,