Quiet Magic

by Kimberly C. Jones©

There are those who get lost in grand gestures—
where the price of what’s in the box
matters more than the thought that shaped it.
But my heart calls to the simple things.

The tender knowing of a soul—
the spark that lifts their smile,
and the playful mischief born
from the joy of the unexpected.

The simple things speak plainly—
the way someone truly listens,
a glance that doesn’t look away,
a kindness given without ceremony,
the truth that rises softly
when nothing needs to shine.

For I am made of gentle edges
and a spark that loves to play—
soft enough to listen deeply,
wild enough to stir the air,
holding mischief and tenderness
in the same steady breath.

And it’s there, in the smallest gestures,
that I recognize myself—
soft, curious, a little wild,
finding my joy in what’s real
and my spirit in the freedom of being me.


So, I walk in the realm of simple things—
where truth hums low and steady,
and mischief curls like light around my steps.
I am made of quiet magic,
the kind that glows without asking
to be seen.