A thousand secrets remained folded within him,
Inside him , burnt a little light when the world otherwise was dim.
And even though we were miles away,
I could hear the echo of what he didn't say.
Because he was magic within and yet he was unaware,
That he had a wand which majestically fought the things unfair.
Some people have so much strength, but they don't know,
That they're capable of converting heat to snow.
Stories for a chiliad he has to lend,
Bright colours, little smiles and memories is what makes my writer friend.
~*~