Harken to the knocking
on Ye Olde Oak door,
there, it comes again, one fierce knock more..
no-one dares to answer, none dare heed the call
an arm is raised to knock again, and then is let fall.
Feet slowly walk away, there, hear them on the path?
also hear the breathless sobbing, …then the bitter laugh
slowly ye recover, tempted to peek, make curtains twitch
but beware with red eyes on thee, is the half deranged Witch
she sees and she marks thee, thy mouth opens wide in a scream,
bony finger points, Magic is spake, ye are held within thy dream.
IN turn ye are the one who knocks,
no-one heeds thy frantic call
and the Witch?…
why she has thy life,
she has thy soul, that is all……
LadyP © 2011