ABAB Witchcraft Poetry Contest
Down by the forest's edge at night
she dances as her auburn hair wildly glows
Then she steps out into the pale moon light,
so the night creatures can see the show.
Tiny Fairies quietly watch as she brings
her steaming cauldron to a boil
Spirits cry and then the bell she rings
as she whisper her chant of toil.
Misty fog the woods it does grace
as she is sealing in the circle with salt.
The fire's glow lights up her intense face
but let not Ye be caught.
Even the wise old owl says not a word
a frog's eyes, a bat and a dead man's bones
A few roots, a newt and a wing of a bird
a rumbling sound and a lot of groans.
From the ground her dead lover he does rise
welcoming him with such passion and a kiss
For each time her soul is filled with sweet surprise
for the one she has missed.