As we near the shortest day of the year, The Winter Solstice, and, more importantly (to me) my wedding anniversary, I usually write a scribble with Mrs Bob in mind. After all, a poem is for anniversaries, not just for valentines. So with that in mind, I give you…

Your Smile, the First Magic I Ever Believed In

Your smile is the kind of spell

That doesn’t ask permission. 

It just shows up,

Soft as a sunrise;

Huge as a meteor;

Certain as breath;

And suddenly, the whole room forgets

Whatever storm it was carrying. 

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I swear, when you smile, gravity gets confused. 

The air lifts as if remembering an old song,

And my heart – that stubborn, earthbound,

Boots-in-the-mud heart –

Starts flipping like it got tired of pretending it doesn’t care. 

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People talk about magic as if it’s hiding in a forest, 

Or pressed between book pages,

Or locked behind ghosts with Latin names. 

But magic – real magic –

Is simpler than all that myth-making. 

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It’s the way your mouth curves like a crescent moon;

Teaching the dark how to unclench.

It’s the way the corners of your eyes crinkle

Like tiny arrows pointing to a doorway

Into warm-lit rooms,

Where love leans back and offers you a seat. 

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Every time you smile,

Something in my chest loosens.

Like kindness remembering its own pulse;

Like hope peeling off its armour.

Because, for once, 

The world has stopped swinging at me. 

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There are still sparks that refuse to go out. 

Still reasons to inhale at beauty. 

So, if you ever wonder what you are to me, know this :-

Your smile is the first magic I ever trusted…

The one spell I hope I never stop

Falling

Under. 

(C)Bob W Christian

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