The Witch

I saw her plucking cowslips,

And marked her where she stood.

She never knew I watched her,

While hiding in the woods.

Her skirt was the brightest crimson,

And black her steeple hat.

Her broomstick lay beside her,

I'm positive of that.

Her chin was sharp and pointed,

Her eyes were - I don't know.

For when she turned towards me...

I thought it best - to go.