Once a year, sometimes more,
he would come knocking on our door.
Waited for us to settle down,
with his paper bag, always brown.
Filled right to the brim,
tools of the trade – a Magician!
Flapping fishes, straws and peas,
he would make great use of these.
Things would occasionally appear,
magically out of someones ear.
Puzzles that couldn’t be undone,
Suddenly for him flew open.
Bright balloons, bits of string,
he magically turned into many things.
Coins put in a special box,
would vanish and positively fox,
the children who looked on with glee,
whilst he went through his repartee.
Time flows on, children grow,
now as adults we all know,
Some of the secrets to his amazing tricks,
and wondrous eyes on us are fixed,
We try out best to surprise and conjure,
to amaze small children filled with wonder.
All watching us as we try to repeat,
some of his most amazing feats.
Try as we might, we will never,
be as slight of hand or nearly as clever.
Our magical skills will never be,
quite as magical as he.
No party would have been complete,
without him and his magical treats.
We try our best, but we all know.
We will never be as magical, as Uncle Joe.