A magic flare
It's from the images of glances,
That imagination dances.
And revelry and delivery,
Sends ingenuity lances.
They bake in the pan of gullible,
To form degrees of palpable.
And shimmer in a golden pond,
To quench the thirst of affable.
They make and fill the dreams of some.
They bridge across a field of fun.
They are pillars of a temple.
And they are the weave of anyone.
For I myself have built one such,
Upon an impish little touch.
And rose a castle in the air,
That washed away in overmuch
So if you think a magic flare,
Be very careful and aware.