Quick one today, a Trimeric. Apologies to actual witches. This one just sort of flopped out fully formed. I mean the black pointy hat, cackling, broomstick riding type of witch. Not our local pagan priestess.
I wish I knew
Where the cat goes
When he disappears
For hours on end
Where the cat goes
He stays for days.
There is shelter from the rain.
There are cobwebs.
When he disappears
I think he visits an old witch
In a spidery cottage
And she has charmed him.
For hours on end
I wander the streets
And look for my cat.
But the witch has got him.
Tom Juniper Poetry 