The Witch
by Paul Anthony Kearsey

THE WITCH

Cloaked in a veil of purple velvet,
Starched peroxide thatch of boundless hair;
With mascara rimmed, lifeless eyes, that crept like spiders,
Beware the stranger with her evil stare.

Her long nose, crooked, misshapen,
Conceals a smile, a wicked grin;
The characters of her face have shrivelled and fallen,
Only to be caught by the sacking beneath her chin.

Spindles that carry this hunched, grotesque frame,
By the "pigeon-toed" manoeuvres of her feet;
As she wanders the streets, time and time again,
Never flinching, never uttering a word of speech.

For a young and innocent child like I,
Could run faster than her, unless she should fly;
Back to my home where I safely could play,
But beware the witch, is what I would say!
submitted: 14/10/03