Persistence

An illusionist had a couple of tricks up his sleeve.

Made a living on small stages and streets.

Crowd was small unappreciated, he found a penny here and there enough just to make ends meet.

As age set in his hands lost their speed,

card's fell from his pockets and hidden sockets, birds flew from this tilted hat

he feared his livelihood at stake. 

Just then a miracle happened, laughter broke in the small crowd, the sound of laughter attracted others, crowd growing large.

That day his collection was more than what he got a month in the past.

People who scorned his magic, saw not just card's fall but a joker too a natural to the core.

Though things are slow and steps are small as you plough on, the colour of sand will keep changing, sign of good things to come.