Quill #93 - Dreams of You (1974)

When witches on brooms
Creep into my room
And the skies are darkest blue,
I become a fairy child
With magic that is strong and wild
And go to visit you.

I chant a spell ages old,
Wave a wand as bright as gold,
And you know I'm here.
Turn in circles just three times,
Say a mystic magic rhyme,
And I have you near.

Spirits wander in and out,
Magic spreading all about,
And you belong to me.
Misting and fading ere long,
Spell now almost gone,
And there's nothing more to see.

Then I'm back in bed
Where I shake my head
And all has been a dream of night.
Lightning from the skies,
I slowly realize,
And I wonder if I'm right...

...That all the magic was my love for you.

(image from Dover)