In the dim of the night,
And in the brightness of the moon.
On the 31st of October,
At the foggy lagoon.
Lurked a craggy old creature,
Looked dead, but was not.
Eyes a red inferno,
Skin pasty, flecked with spots.
Her hair long in dreadlocks,
Ebony black, down to her toes.
A considerable hairy wart,
Placed on the end of her nose.
In one hand she packed,
A frisky old cat.
In the other, a broomstick,
Which now they both sat.
The witch, devilishly chuckled,
Puckered her lips as she blew.
Kicked her pointy black shoes,
And up, up, they both flew!
By: Annie
By: Annie
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