Witches walk

Upon the wailing witches walk,
Silent chatter of their talk. 
Black hair, down to the waist,
A grubby tunic and disgusting face.

For those with good eye site,
Best not come.
For those witches
Will make you run. 

Their filthy breath,
Their vile stench,
Is enough 
To make anyone wretch. 

So don't go there.
Whatever you do.
Please don't say,
I didn't warn you.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed