by lori W.

Created on: September 04, 2007

And they gathered,
cajoled and old.
Time Witches and Demons,
atop Lairds Knoll.

A flame they set,
upon kindle dried,
to burst forth and jump,
straight for the skies.

The moon ever mournful,
in mysterious size,
slowly and mysteriously,
now on the rise.

They chant and they cry,
listen and pry.
For try as you must,
will understand I surmise.

What witches and demons,
a spell do they brew.
Summon their haunting brothers,
each night anew.

Rhythms and echos,
smiles and screech,
a haunt to us all,
to you they beseach.

Dare that you must,
with each moonrise,
climb to the top,
pray while you spy.

Each night they gather,
withered and new,
Witches and Demons,
await you...............

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