I watched him write a novel and a play
While smoking and drinking a cheap champagne;
In another, ostentatious display
He tied his shoes while fixing my sink drain
He would launch into prolonged, angry rants
Decrying modern magic as a farce
While stirring soup and watering his plants;
He could juggle, eat sweets and scratch his arse
His energy was inexhaustible
His spells and incantations strong and strange
Only one thing he found impossible:
Locating a good tailor in close range
Beware the magician with four, long arms
Whoever he shakes hands with, he soon harms
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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