The Illusionist in the Black Dress

She lets the paper doves fly,

 Moving her hands in such a way

 She easily conceals her tricks.

 

 You watch in awe as the

 Doves fly over your head and

 Disappear as if they were

 Never there.

 

"Who is she?" Whispers

 Catch on bits of people's minds,

 Flitting about like hummingbirds

 In flight.

 

 But she is no one.

The illusion is she,

concealing her life

with one stroke of her hand.