John Smith

He ambles by night, but keeps out of sight

In shadows and niches, he lurks.

Sometimes he will smile, as he journeys with guile

There are times when he grins and then smirks.

He knows his way here, and finds his way there

Each one, he knows us by name.

He meddles with magic, some good, also tragic

His touch leaves you, never the same.

He fashions your dreams, filled with laughter or screams

Whatever he thinks you deserve.

His wile has great scope, despair mixed with hope,

He lightens dull times with his verve.

He does not use charms, nor sweet smelling balms

His trickery works without plan.

Believe me he’s there, so do have a care,

Watch out for the ‘Thaumaturge’ man!

Author J Smith