The Witch Of The Lake
It was a Lull siesta indeed.
Soft breezing wind, and me setting near the shelf, paying no heed.
Looking for a fairy tale,
It crashed onto my head-
"The witch of the lake".
Dark and dire, giving out spooks
Putting it back,wondering who read such books?
Dusk now arrived, leaving the study disheartened,
Fantasies in my mind, with beliefs
But there's something more to
I took that book, with all the gloom and
Rushing towards the room I shut the lights out.
Why do you care? The witch asked
Clumsily sitting near the corner of the
Going through it's pages like
The witch who lived near the lake,
Dumped off by the entire race.
Alluringly grooming her fine strands of hair
Bided her time, before her love to appear.
For thousands of years, she waited alone,
Withering beauty, paleness all grown.
She cursed the lake and hoodooed the world,
May affection will die with no one to love.
But, profanity struck the lake too hard,
Now all dried up, a complete discard.
With a beam of light I woke up from the bed,
To keep it back on the library shelf.
It's not to hide the witch from the world,
But hoping for her story to be heard.
"So why putting all the admiration to the happy fairy lands?
Witches have their stories too,
Which our ideal mind Often misunderstands...