Poetry By Willow Dancer

"Ye Old Witch Shoppe"

Potions and lotions,
bewitchments and spells,
enchantments and powders,
and crystals and bells.

Symbols of magick,
and a cauldron or two,
rare incense and herbs,
and fresh witches brew.

Robes made of velvet,
and sandals of hide,
bags with fine ribbons,
hide treasures inside.

Shiny pendants of silver,
and dolls made of wax,
candles and baubles,
patens and plaques.

A pottery goddess,
and a chalice of steel,
a basket of stones,
an ol' spinning wheel.

The smells fill your senses
and entice you to stop,
and enter her realm
ye old witches shoppe.

Fresh tea on the table,
and brooms by the door,
her cat's on a pillow,
in a box on the floor.

She smiles as you enter
flashing sparkly eyes,
like a colorful gypsy
she's crafty but wise.

Old books in tall stacks
bindings tattered with age
there's so much to know
start turning the page.

Your memories fade
as you reach for the door
she calls you by name
like she knew you before.

Her face looks familiar
one you've seen in your dreams
what stands right before you
is not what it seems.

Willow Dancer

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