The Witch at my Window

Whenever it’s cold and dark outside,
Whenever the storm clouds fly,
Whenever I’m tucked up warm in bed,
The witch comes flying by.

I see her shape; her hat, her nose,
I see her cloak, her broom,
I hear her tap my window pane,
She stares into my room.

As terror grips my body,
As tightly as a glove,
As dread prevents a single scream,
I pray to god above.

My sisters sleep on soundly,
My mother’s unaware,

My heart is pounding in my chest,
Dumb tears fall in despair.

As fear becomes too much to bear,
The sun begins to rise…

The witch fades fast then disappears,
Much to my surprise!

Many times the witch came by,
Many sleepless nights,
Many tears slipped down my cheeks,
When mum put out the lights.

And then one cold and stormy night,
Great anger welled inside,
I marched up to the window sill,
And pulled the curtains wide.

I stared into the witches eyes,
She smiled and raised her hat,
And as she flew into the night,
I knew that, that was that.

Whenever it’s cold and dark outside,
Whenever the storm clouds fly,
I know I’ll never be scared again,
Should a witch come flying by.