In The Winter Of Your Wicca Poem by Maurice Rowlands

In The Winter Of Your Wicca



Old hag
Leave your past behind
That gnarled old tree
In your garden
Is what you’ve become

Old witch
Why has it come to this?
That cracked, stained teapot
In your kitchen
Is what you’ve become

Old woman
He left you long ago
That faded yellowed book
On your shelf
Is what you’ve become

Old lady
Put away those photographs
That tattered old wedding dress
In your wardrobe
Is what you’ve become

Old sweetheart
Let it go
That broken old figurine
On your mantelpiece
Is what you’ve become

Old spirit
Renew your dark soul
That soft inviting light
In your sherry glass
Is, I’m afraid
What you’ve become

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