Our Witching Hour.

Hey, you're pretty good
We should collaborate sometime

It comes out like a joke
but our words have melted
into one sticky mess
effortlessly
since the first piece crashed out
of twin keyboards

Flashes of insight
Breed inspiration
A Spirograph most arcane
Time and substance changing clothes

Our muses play
in places we cannot wander
and in their laughter
and across their sun-kissed skins
these words are whispered

Storms gain sentience
Will takes form
The magic is made up of words
The spell is woven through ideas
The power is in those it touches

Those catastrophes that rattled
eye sockets like window frames
are reduced to gentle rains
and it is our witching hour