The full moon hangs high
In this cold clear sky
illuminating the earth below
With its magical silvery glow
Three witches dressed in black
With a cackle as their soundtrack
Soaring through the sky
Faster and faster they did fly
On their enchanted broomsticks
Each one carrying a bag of tricks
The oldest witch, a wizened crone
With white hair the color of moonstone
Her beady eyes gleaming in the moonlight
As she swoops and dives leaving all in fright
Casting spells on the earth below
watching as her magic did flow
The second witch from middle age...