Witches come out from hiding,
Only one day of the year.
That is when you'll know,
That Halloween is here.

Deep within the darkened woods,
If you listen closely you will hear.
The witches eerie cackling,
That will fill you with terror and fear.

Only those not weak of heart,
Venture out into the woods and sneak.
Not wanting to make a sound,
Carefully they make their way to have a peek.

They slowly part the bushes,
And see a frightening sight,
Witches that can make your blood run cold,
Secretly working in the night.

Around the flames of a burning fire,
The witches surround a big black pot.
Stirring an ample supply of witches brew,
Steaming and piping hot.

With an indescribable stench arising,
They thirstily utter "A tasty treat"
While their greenish goo concoction,
Bubbles over from the heat.

A black cat roams freely,
With its yellowish eyes aglow.
As a blackbird flies overhead,
In the howling winds that blow.

Toss in a few spoiled toad stools,
An unsightly witch does rant.
Mix in a few drops of lizards tears,
And throw in a sprig of spider plant.

Pour in several cups of sweat from an ogre,
Gently toss in a worm or two.
Add a dash of dragon's eye,
While chanting hocus pocus and Kalamazoo.

With broomsticks they briskly stir,
Then eagerly scoop the broth into a shoe.
All year long they have anxiously waited,
For a swig of,
Delectable..
Witches Brew

©Elizabeth Ann Bushey
October~23~2006©
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