Magic in the Garden

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I make some morning moves,

Out of the room,

Walked through the garden,

Drawn by my indolent feet.

I reached to the flower pot,

The sleeping freshness.

The delightful souls.

I smelt that morning breeze,

Perhaps my longest breath.

Enriched I, elated I,

Smiled at my childish joy.

I felt it, I felt that breeze,

Those smiles too.

I prolonged my rapid stroll,

My eyes winked, a dash of glow

A twinkle among the blossom,

I stepped to the muddy patch,

And moved my eyes close,

A drop of crystal shell,

On the greens of my garden patch.

I saw another few,

Diamond drops, dazzling mystic gems.

What are they? Dewdrops, I said.

Or, Kind of Magic, just born.

This poem is linked to Carry On Tuesday and the prompt this week is the opening line and title of Queen's greatest hits It's a kind of magic.