FABLE Poem: Witchcrafte, by Autumn Shears

Matilda was the witch’s new apprentice,
Rosamel looked for someone whose soul was atramentous.
She lived in Brittleberg forest gathering fungi,
Hurring about, the witch’s hour was nigh.
Without enchantment nor permission did they speak,
Matilda told them off, the girl was not meek.
They told a tale of the moon, who hated those cats,
They feared the moon would not come back.
By eve the next day, she had caught those felines,
and into the cauldron as she did the lupines.
This was an act the witch did not sanction,
She warned that her deeds were akin to abaction.
They argued as Rosamel put horses in the stable,
The girl fumed; compromise was not on the table.
“Know this young apprentice,” the witch warned,
“An impulsive witch will not be mourned.
Abstain from heeding unsolicited fears,
Or one day you may harm someone’s beloved dears.”

Author: poetryfest

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