Obituary To A Witch Poem by Peter Rogerson

She spun the tangled web of truth
Into a fantasy of death
Arachnida adopting clothes
Which were more suited to 'Macbeth'

A grotesque form in human guise
So slender and so sensuous,
Possessing venom of an asp
She slithered through my consciousness

The beauty of her outward frame
Contained a picture of despair;
Her matted twisted inner id
Contrasting with her silken hair.

A mistress of disguise was she -
Emotions hidden deep within;
An air of pure serenity
The packaging for thoughts of sin.

She never knew what love could be
Perhaps this was her epitaph;
'A cynical and bitter soul
Whose heart had lost the will to laugh.'