The Season of The Witch

 

The Witch had lots of money

and a sly sense of humour

I’m not sure if she liked me

or what I did for her

 

Her coven met after noon

flocking round her cauldron

breathing the oracle fumes

ignoring Cassie’s warnings

 

The way she would produce those jewels

diamonds, emeralds, rubies

taken greedily as our own

but there was payment, truly

 

Hard to fathom a Witch’s depths

under all the scheming

does a spider spins its web

just to practice weaving

 

I turned when he impaled her

delight she took so well

and watched the cruel betrayal

when he stole her spells

 

Her teeth so small and pearly white

she clutched my arm and cackled

perhaps those moments of delight

are all that really mattered

 

Today’s GloPoWriMo prompt was to write an elegy – a poem that mourns or honors someone dead or something gone by. And to center the elegy on an unusual fact about the person or thing being mourned.

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