Where's the Magic?

This is one stanza of the only poem I've written since high school. That's not a veiled request for you guys to go easy on me, rather a disclaimer about the quality of what follows.

O, to return to that meadow of mirth,

Traipse through its dew-covered grass, greener than turf,

To the Feeling I’d got upon taking those Hits,

The first and the second, the third fourth and fifth.

Blessed with joy were those days in which I could Feel,

Whence I’d discovered Their uncanny appeal.

One Hit and one Line, I was wholly enraptured,

So thankful was I for my Soul to be captured

By my new-found friends, first just one then another,

I no longer cried about losing my brother.

If only he’d lived, he could come back around,

He’d see what I’d found after the day that he’d drowned.

As I write I recall the strange feeling I’d had,

Just ere the too-small casket was lowered by Dad,

Uncle Jimmy, Denise, Cousin Marcus who wept,

It was just at that moment I’d stepped to the left,

Across the thin line twixt denial and panic,

I screamed, “Not my brother!” as if I had planned it.

Though rehearsed it was not, and in fact I still feel

It was not me who uttered that hopeful appeal.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4i99a9/mind_over_matter/d2w7koa

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4i8cnd/i_must_imagine_them_happy/d2w7e8e