deepundergroundpoetry.com
Witch is it?
They called her a witch
Who knows why.
She lived in a hootch,
Rather isolated in the woods,
Had a collection of brooms....
She liked her place tidy and neat
And a number of small jars
Containing various brews.
People had crazy needs,
If you only knew.
So people were seemingly
Afraid of her
But secretly came to her
Seeking to soothe their griefs,
Their anguish, their pains
They sought her to sort out
The woes and ease the pain.
Thus an adequate remedy
For the visitor...sometimes
But a tea, a bit of honey,...
And a bit of potion, nothing vile,
A balm for her soul also
Every time a client left
With a smile and a sigh of relief
On his or her face.
Who knows why.
She lived in a hootch,
Rather isolated in the woods,
Had a collection of brooms....
She liked her place tidy and neat
And a number of small jars
Containing various brews.
People had crazy needs,
If you only knew.
So people were seemingly
Afraid of her
But secretly came to her
Seeking to soothe their griefs,
Their anguish, their pains
They sought her to sort out
The woes and ease the pain.
Thus an adequate remedy
For the visitor...sometimes
But a tea, a bit of honey,...
And a bit of potion, nothing vile,
A balm for her soul also
Every time a client left
With a smile and a sigh of relief
On his or her face.
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