One step forward

Three steps back

Little feet darting about

Sheer rapture in every step

Clapped on the mouth

Then clasped in joy

Two chubby little hands

Flying about in mirthful glee

Eyes dancing, face shining

A look of awe on the face

Excited chatter streaming forth

Lisping words about the wonder beheld

Magic may not be real

But magic, we can see

For, through the lens of a three year old

Magic is naught but an automated door