Me!

I am the witch who can't be seen,


And I was born on Halloween!


My own familiar with me sits;


His eyes are golden - merely slits.

I gaze into my crystal ball,


And see the snowflakes as they fall,


Upon the planet dark and grey,


For Summer solstice now I pray.

And when the tarot cards I spy,


I grasp them with a gleeful cry.


Perhaps the future will be told,


When pictures I at last behold.

So do not mock me, for I say,


'You may regret it one fine day,


When spells are cast and witches fly,


Upon their broomsticks in the sky!!'

Poetry by Various Contributors

Scorpio_witch

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