Spell

Listen closely listen well To the tale of a certain witch’s spell You need not see but only hear Close thy eyes but open thy ears, You see my friend imagine this A time ago when the world turned six All was silent and all was black But right in the middle was a witch’s shack, There were no windows, there were no doors Beneath there was ceiling above was the floor The walls were plain dull everything bare A place of nothing emptiness’s lair, But standing alone in its glory and might Stood one spinning wheel of just black and white And upon the spindle was a string of spells Standing beside it was the witch herself, Gray and brittle Fragile and little Short and thin Aged and wrinkled, The witch was nothing Barley a shadow But her words of power, genuine and true A quiet whisper, the magic starts anew, Using words to form the web She spins the wheel of colorful thread Colors gay and colors old She knits them all, spell behold!