Matthew Herfurth Poet Rhyme

Witchy and the Magic Picture Frame

Witchy and the Magic Picture Frame


It was the day before Halloween.
Yes. Halloween. 
That fun and very scary night. Yes. Halloween. 
That celebration for anyone who’s keen—
the living and the dead of the day and the night—
who love to celebrate under the mean bright moonlight,
the staring, judging moonlight. 

But... no celebration for Witchy! 

She was going to miss 
this year’s Halloween party held in 
the faraway (she lived in 
1 Oak Street, Elmwood) town called Hiss. 

She had NEVER missed one. 
Hiss was where she was born. 
It was a really important, a real treat for this one,
to celebrate Halloween where she was born.

All witches celebrated Halloween 
where they were born. Halloween 
wasn't the same in Elmwood. Halloween 
sucked there. If they didn’t celebrate Halloween 
where they were born, 
they’d feel such scorn. 

So why was there no celebration for Witchy?
Was it because Witchy 
lived so faraway? No. 
No. 

The reason made her so angry on that day
she almost turned to clay.

‘My atypical brown broom Boris (the joke!)
has gone... again! What a joke!’ 
Witchy complained (with a croak) 
to Noom, her book, who used to chain-smoke. 

Under the dim blonde light of
their living room Noom said, ‘I’m so
so sorry to hear that. A lot of 
great things have been written about Boris’s so so 
special brand of broom. Get yourself a gung-ho
new one, a reliable one who’s not a no-show!’

‘It totally sucks! I’ll very 
fast have to get a new broom (one who's merry)  
I’m so sick and tired of Boris disappearing, 
then appearing.’

‘I only see him twice a week. Boo!
Where he goes, and too
what he gets up to,
I haven’t—I’m embarrassed—the faintest clue!’

‘You’ll have to walk far to the Halloween party. 
Far, far, far. 
Your young legs hearty 
won't make it far, far, far.
You won’t make it in time. You 
won't. (I bet you wished you
could drive a car, don't you!').

‘Yes. Noom, I must go!
I have to try to go 
to the party you know!
I won’t miss one Halloween party! I’ll cry!
Oh maybe I’ll die!’

‘Okay, okay. Calm down!
Go, 
GO to that silly town.'

‘You coming? I’d love the company. Please?
PLEEEAAAAAAASEEE?
Accompany me
or not accompany me?’

‘I can’t go to (without a deep frown) 
that horse-and-buggy town. 
It’s too simple for me. I have too many things 
to do. The first is: fix my bed springs.’ 

Witchy sighed. 

She wished Noom didn’t suffer from analysis 
paralysis,
wish she would have more fun.
'I guess books aren’t supposed to have fun.' 

As Witchy waved her book goodbye
she tried not to cry.

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