A witch’s children seldom sleep;
they stay up in their rooms
conjuring up mythical lands,
building kingdoms and castles,
or run through the house—
all wide-eyed wildness
once the full moon comes up,
and mirrors itself in their round, blue eyes.
They dance, cackle and fly about the room
until a crash into the wall—or each other—
signals the doom-bell of bedtime.
The later the louder;
the more tired the more terrible,
until their witch-mother’s exasperated hair
shoots out in all directions like flames.
Finally, she has to resort to softly chanting spells
to soothe her tiny witches and warlocks to sleep.
When their dark lashes lay on their cheeks at last,
they almost look like ordinary children,
but the witch grins to herself…
she knows better!