THE POOR MAGICIAN

Hi everyone,
just thought I'd start by sharing this poem of mine which a lot of us can relate to..

it's titled 'The Poor Magician'
I believe poem writing is a form of expressing your thoughts in a beautiful way..like painting a scenery, and shrouding it with a touch of clouds..
Here's my attempt at it-
comments and views are invited...

THE POOR MAGICIAN

The magician makes a grand entry,
twirling his hat and bowing to the crowd,
hiding what could only be..
the beating of his heart so loud

people applaud in anticipation,
some in hope and some in despair..
silence that could engulf the night alive,
and eyes that couldn't for a moment forget to stare

the act was performed..the attention held,
the dilettante had come through,
the anxiety had been dispelled..
but would he do it again?
or would he be satisfied with just a few..

questions are many and answers are none,
he certainly doesn't do it anymore for fun,
the sighs creep in and so do the drooping shoulders,
weight bears him down like a group of boulders

but he has to live and it has to survive,
cos no matter the laughs and the cries,
many destinies he has to mend,
so he has got to have a trick up his sleeve,
cos that's all that matters in the end.