by Paul Curtis
10/28/2011 / Holidays
On her broomstick she swoops
And into her arms she scoops
A poor unsuspecting young man
Because as a witch she can
And carries him off through the night
Then uses him for her delight
In the light of the cauldrons fire
She indulges her every desire
I am a fifty something family man with a passion for writing and I draw inspiration from those around me.
paul.curtis1956 @ btinternet.com
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