The Unwicked Witch
I crossed a path today, I had never seen before,
By a stream in a familiar woods.
So I followed the path.
Curious of what I may find.
And it led me to a house by a meadow.
There stood, outside this house,
a woman clad in black.
She wore no pointy hat
And carried no broomstick, but she was a witch.
I knew.
My senses pricked and
Stood on guard
For witches can be danger.
She looked at me, through piercing eyes
And half-smiled at this stranger.
“Good day, Miss Witch" I said and bowed, to show respect.
“Good day, strange wanderer", she replied.
“Why are you snooping here?”
I smiled right back.
“Not snooping Miss, but inquisitive. I followed this strange path.”
“Well now you’ve seen, so on your way, or I will cast a spell.”
I smiled again.
“I fear you not,” was my response. I knew that I was strong. And made a match for any witch.
She knew that I was wrong!
“So, young man, you think you are a match for me. Then you should be aware. For just one match will light a fire. And fires can rage fiercely.
My fire can devour a man like you.”
I smiled again.
“I think. Miss Witch, we will not fight, for we are on the same side. You will not cast a spell on me.”
I looked her in the eye.
And that was my mistake.
She looked me back and flashed a smile so bright my mind twitched and blinked, dazzled and dazed.
“I thank you, sir, for your respect. Now I bid you a good day.”
I turned and wandered down the path, returning whence I came. I thought I’d matched her with a smile. How wrong I proved to be.
For she, indeed, had cast a spell with the beauty of her smile, and set aflame a raging fire that burns within me still,
Alight with lustful yearning and a deepest need to see her smile again.
I went, of course, to find the path, to beg for one more smile.
But odd to say, it wasn’t there and never has been since.
And, though I have unbridled power, it’s true, I was no match
For the Unwicked Witch who still I seek and remember when I smile.
Bewitched by her beauty
As her fire burns within.