It happens on the night of halloween the night that witches <br />can be seen. The one and only night of the year that we like <br />to dress up in ghoulish gear. Kids can trick or treat before the <br />witching hour, then that fades into a far stronger power. <br />Over the moon and flying down to the ground comes many a <br />witch making that familiar sound. On broomstick they travel <br />with head held high, dressed in black as to blend in with the <br />midnight sky. <br />Down to the coven where they sit all, around the cauldron tight <br />as a wall. As kindling crackles sparks fly high, it's now you'll <br />hear the sound of the witches cry; 'hocus pocus' cackles and <br />screams come the making of spells over the firelight beams. <br />When the spells are complete they all give a loud cheer, to <br />celebrate this night the only one of the year. <br />Old hags who's ages multiply in scores, who have been around <br />since the Napoleonic Wars. some of their ancestors were burnt <br />at the stake but that's because they made a mistake. <br />As dawn draws closer then back they fly over that wide <br />open sky. with broomstick to sit on, black cat as a mate <br />they bid you farewell until the next 'Halloween Date!<br /><br />sylvia spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-date-for-your-diary/
