The Dirt Witch -

Clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape,
The Dirt Witch, makes her way up the stairs, dragging her long, old, black cape,
With unkept long and gray, dusty hair, green mildew eyes, and yellow jaggedy teeth,
Crooked, barefoot, long boney toe and finger nails, with red stains, deep underneath.

The Dirt Witches cackle, makes you sit straight up in your chair, at the lonely dinner table,
Cuz you know then its real, and the warnings, are not of, a long old made up, household fable,
She is coming for you now, this creature, that lives in the basement, imaginations do create,
For the solitary young boy, sitting at the table, that didnt eat it all, and clean up his dinner plate.

Fear comes to mind, thinking back, at my limited time I had, to finish and save my own fate,
Apparently the Dirt Witch didnt mind, if I let my dog Chance help, as he never did hesistate,
And so miraculously, when I scraped off my leftovers, under the table, upon the old, checkered, vinly floor,
The Dirt Witch would go back down the basement stairs, and I did not hear her cackle, that night, anymore.

One night around 3am, I tip-toed down those stairs into the dark, thinking of the Dirt Witch with no food,
I felt sorry for her, down there in the cold basement, by her solitary self,  I do hope shes in a friendly mood ?
So with my little plastic bags of cheerios, chocolate chips, and green grapes, I entered into her dark space,
I waiting down there for awhile, disappointed, she did not come out, relieved, my mind and fears, I did embrace.

D.M. Beebe