The Witch

In darksome wood
Where her house stood
An evil air pervades,
Her presence lurks
Within the murk
And haunts the forest glades.

Though long since dead
Abiding dread
Still ties her to this place,
The sense of ill
Which lingers still
The years can ne'er erase.

No cry of bird
Or beast is heard
The trees in silence stand,
And yet it seems
The sound of screams
Is ever close at hand.

The ghosts of they
Whom she did slay
Forever walk within,
To tread the gloom
Is their sad doom
In memory of her sin.

Through countless years
Of pain and tears
The witch's terror reigned,
The blood that spilled
From those she killed
The earth has crimson stained.

But Death he came
Her life to claim
As to us all he must,
She sits in thrall
In Satan's hall
Her bones have turned to dust.

Yet though long dead
Abiding dread
Still ties her to this place,
The sense of ill
Which lingers still
The years can ne'er erase.

Copyright D M Pamment 2009