A witch’s children seldom sleep;

they stay up in their rooms 

conjuring up mythical lands,

building kingdoms and castles,

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or run through the house—

all wide-eyed wildness

once the full moon comes up,

and mirrors itself in their round, blue eyes.

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They dance, cackle and fly about the room

until a crash into the wall—or each other—

signals the doom-bell of bedtime.

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The later the louder;

the more tired the more terrible,

until their witch-mother’s exasperated hair 

shoots out in all directions like flames.

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Finally, she has to resort to softly chanting spells

to soothe her tiny witches and warlocks to sleep.

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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!

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