a witch's childhood is akin to that of an acid trip
before the fence and the padlock
and the signs -
you might hear a gypsy wind
and the baby's breath will dance to its tune
waltzing between your ankles.
and if your eyes are wide enough
and brown enough
and innocent enough
you might catch spirits conversing in the clouds
inspecting you from above.
Let the elementals guide you
do not resist when they gently take your hand
and lead you up the mountain
to the field of yellow daisies
where you can finally sleep in peace
because you are guarded by clever wisps.
Wake to the sound of friendly goblins
chasing each other down the path
over the forgotten obstacle course
under the great and powerful pine trees
that stand tall unconditionally.
Drink tea with the faeries
around the stump that looks like a mushroom
and eat incarnadine berries off viridescent leaves
in hopes that maybe one day
they'll let you fly with them.
Enjoy their company while you can
because one day
and it will all be gone.