Magic in the Air
I can breathe fire,
well smoke,
sort of.
It happens in the cold,
I blow and blow,
the air changes
right in front of my face.
Perhaps,
I am a dragon.
One day my wings may grow,
I will swoop and soar over shimmering hills,
glide over glistening glens,
frost on my claws.
My Dad,
can do it too.
Maybe we are all dragons?
We just forgot.
well smoke,
sort of.
It happens in the cold,
I blow and blow,
the air changes
right in front of my face.
Perhaps,
I am a dragon.
One day my wings may grow,
I will swoop and soar over shimmering hills,
glide over glistening glens,
frost on my claws.
My Dad,
can do it too.
Maybe we are all dragons?
We just forgot.
This poem is copyright (©) Elisabeth Kelly 2024
About the Writer
Elisabeth Kelly
Elisabeth is a teacher, mum and writer. She lives on a hill farm in Scotland, and loves chocolate puddings and the change of seasons. Her poems have been widely published in print, online and in anthologies including by Dodging the Rain, The Honest Ulsterman, One hand Clapping, Forest Publishing, Green Ink. She has a slim pamphlet published by HybridDreich, a pamphlet due with Hedgehog Poetry Press 2021 and a memoir chapbook due with Selcouth Station 2022.