09-16-2013, 06:11 AM
The witches drive could make you gasp,
self-seeded Columbine, burst through cracks,
rampant now, since mother passed.
Alone she stares with radio two
egg on toast and an infused brew.
A little girl on holiday from school,
collecting petals could seem cruel,
stealing colour is against the rules.
Her eyes widen as she sees the drive,
a witches curse is worth the prize.
Lost to the beauty of the intricate flowers,
didn’t hear the door, won’t be missed for hours,
now trapped inside the spinsters tower.
What is it you want, what are you doing?
oh look at my plants, they’re all ruined.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry don’t give me a tail,
I’m making some perfume, was her tale,
a present for mum, she started to wail.
Unravels a memory, takes her back,
the spinsters frown begins to crack.
Oh are you indeed, well let me see,
she had bags and buckets full as could be,
first step inside, then you'll go free.
Pestle and mortar complete with spells,
pass me some more let’s see how it smells.
Two hours it took to grind out the essence,
from pungent petals a flirtatious fragrance,
three small bottles ready as presents.
One, the young girl gave to her mother,
she kept one herself, which left one other.
She told her friends that the witch was white,
together they knocked one summer’s night,
I've brought you a gift, if that’s alright.
Why of course it is, and what a delight,
I didn't know young ladies could be so polite.
The weekly visits helped her grow old,
always looked shocked by the stories they told,
she watched them bloom, vibrant and bold.
So every year when the Columbine appear,
she places a drop behind each ear.
self-seeded Columbine, burst through cracks,
rampant now, since mother passed.
Alone she stares with radio two
egg on toast and an infused brew.
A little girl on holiday from school,
collecting petals could seem cruel,
stealing colour is against the rules.
Her eyes widen as she sees the drive,
a witches curse is worth the prize.
Lost to the beauty of the intricate flowers,
didn’t hear the door, won’t be missed for hours,
now trapped inside the spinsters tower.
What is it you want, what are you doing?
oh look at my plants, they’re all ruined.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry don’t give me a tail,
I’m making some perfume, was her tale,
a present for mum, she started to wail.
Unravels a memory, takes her back,
the spinsters frown begins to crack.
Oh are you indeed, well let me see,
she had bags and buckets full as could be,
first step inside, then you'll go free.
Pestle and mortar complete with spells,
pass me some more let’s see how it smells.
Two hours it took to grind out the essence,
from pungent petals a flirtatious fragrance,
three small bottles ready as presents.
One, the young girl gave to her mother,
she kept one herself, which left one other.
She told her friends that the witch was white,
together they knocked one summer’s night,
I've brought you a gift, if that’s alright.
Why of course it is, and what a delight,
I didn't know young ladies could be so polite.
The weekly visits helped her grow old,
always looked shocked by the stories they told,
she watched them bloom, vibrant and bold.
So every year when the Columbine appear,
she places a drop behind each ear.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out