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Her name was Griselda, and she was a sassy, super confident witch.
She could perform magic potion that threw prissy snakes into a ditch.
Her ideas were monumental, super fantastic, funnier than any of mine.
She taught me so many crazy things, I was in trouble lots of the time.

When mother was around, Griselda got scarce, so she never did see.
A blotchy mess of ketchup on the ceiling? Mom always blamed me.
Griselda’s laugh was full throttled, with a little of a donkey’s heehaw.
She'd come back when the door shut and ask, “Do you think she saw?"

Could never get mad at her; she had a charisma that knocked me flat.
About five foot seven, skinny, with red curls that were amazingly fat.
Her face covered in freckles, and a smile that made it impossible for me
To get upset with Griselda no matter how much trouble she would be.

Popping in and out daily many times from when I was five to six.
We played pranks on my brother, who demanded our spells we un-fix.
At four he was terrified of Griselda and me, when we got all wound up.
We'd conjure magic like mad, using it on my brother and our black pup.

The pup Beauregard always knew when Griselda was in the house.
He would tiptoe away more quietly than the tiniest scared little mouse.
After my sixth birthday party, I am very disappointed and sad to say
Griselda faded away and I have not seen her even one more tiny day.

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