A wisp of smoke, a purple spark,
the cauldron bubbles in the dark.
The fire creaks, then it crackles.
The witch, she grins, she cackles.
Paw of mouse, slime from a toad.
A flattened hedgehog from the road.
She takes her wand and begins to mix,
ancient words spill from her lips.
First vibrant green, then blood red,
the potion’s done, the spell is said.
A long, pale finger in then dipped in,
she licks it clean and wipes her chin.
The wind it howls its eerie song,
a flash, a bang, the witch is gone.