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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