One of the magic people is gone.

Come, let us look for him. He once

was a tall and handsome Puck and luck

Let us see the Oberon he became, decked

With butterflies, causing the shimmer

In a soaring necklace of soap bubbles,

Invoking shining strands of mystery

Of secrets. Tony, Tony Vaughan,

Where have you gone? I look and look.

Not present. Oh wait, there he is

In the work of his hands, paper and

Colors, in dolphin language, in spirit

Caught in wreaths of poems, wizard capes

Of fine design we all wear to

A festival. Poetry caped. Poetry

Embroidered in strange wondrous places.

One of the magic people is gone but not gone.

Good night sweet Prince. I see you

In the eyes of friends and unmet strangers.

© Phyllis Holliday

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