Ding-a-dong the witch is dead
they screamed and bounced around
never again her lovely head
creates enticing sounds.
Each potion that she brew to ail
afflictions of their tribe
they shattered cause an old wives’ tale
ideas they had imbibed.
Along went time and illness spread
a dark guest to their homes
forgotten knowledge ’cause they had
combusted all the tomes.
The shadows grew and their regret
a lament sung too late
how easy their doom was preset
why did they alienate
the wise one in their hate?
© Matthias Geh, 19th June 2018