by Cassandra Latisse

Created on: June 09, 2009

Magic

Twining slightly in my fingers
On the tips the occult lingers
The spell is wrought
The storm is not
Tingling softly with my touch
The fire suddenly raging hot
It drains my weakness; it is too much
Magic is the music, and I am the singer.

Madge looks around; the Wicca gaze
They know that this is just a phase.
The bell tolls midnight: it is time
To join the sisters in sweet rhyme.

The quiet moon blocks out the sun
The Witches' Sabbath has begun.

The Bells

Clanging their way through the darkness
The ominous bells call to every evil-doer
In the midnight hour they do impress
For mortals caught here will see the sun no more.

The black cat slinks through the night
And the moon glimmers so bright
While mirrors crack underfoot like eggshells
So cunning are the wicked bells.

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