The witch has a cackling laugh, and an insane stare.
With her crooked fingers she stirs a boiling pot,
And around her neck there hangs a magic knot.
Her teeth are well rotted, her lips swollen and cracked,
The witch's back is hunched, in pain her body is racked.
Her eyes are quite blind, but she hears very well,
She seldom speaks, though she has much to tell.
In a hut that is covered in layer after layer of mold,
With cracks and holes in the walls that let in the cold,
She can tell you the future, the witch knows your past,
To bless or curse you, she has powerful spells to cast.
To some the witch is evil, and to others most divine,
Many say she is dark, though to some there' s a shine.
To those strong enough to go before the witch, and ask,
They know that her seidr is powerful enough for the task.
- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2014.