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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2259755
She's invisible to all mankind but the little children who fall into her trap.
Late into the night Hazel, the witch, will stroll,
To a cauldron where she weaves her wicked spells,
Dreaming of small hearts to fill a goldfish bowl,
Of any child falling for her crafty yummy smells.

What sounds can be heard in the witch’s lair?
Grunts, horrid screams, and wicked shrieks,
On Halloween night, little ones beware,
Do not wander into her trap, it’s you she seeks!

With gifts of candy, she’ll lure you in with a wink,
Thinking, Little children taste like honey to me,
Then quick grab them and their blood she will drink,
No one suspects, all is hidden under lock and key.

Evil laughter isn’t heeded as more traps she tests,
Then dances by the fire to recite her evil spells,
It’s Halloween night to entice her tiny guest,
With sweetest smells the little ones know so well.

Halloween has gone now, low cloud huddle overhead,
The fire is out, just a few ambers remain,
Hazel content, goldfish bowl filed with treats on bread,
Next year her witchy spells and traps start all over again.

20 lines
Written for "Octoberfest Dark Dreamscapes Fundraiser

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