The Witches Dream

The Grapes hung in violet clusters upon the twisted vine. I should have been in bed. Sleep covering me like a warm blanket. A ring of sugar plums my only dream. But No, I had seen the Poster advertising grapes. I had promised myself only to steal what I could eat. Never to be caught. No evidence you see except for a full belly. No evidence, no crime! I would do no time! But Oh what a wicked game. How those vines twisted, twirling around my feet. Holding me tight and still No matter how I kicked. My cry from the amethyst orchard unheard. She came then carrying her Brass cauldron as if it weighted naught. A black cat hurrying along beside with secret spices in a special black sack. It was plain that I was the ingredient and the witch was about To Cook. She gathered things from secret spots she looked into a book. She turned and looked into my eyes. My body shook and shook and then a crash from by my bed as I jumped up on the floor. Feet cold, heart racing, a cold sweat. Knowing it only a nightmare, I patted my Purple cluster filled tummy and crawled right back into the witches dream.