• katyaini 58w

    Long ago, when my eyes were bright
    I heard of a witch, weathered by time
    She carried with her a coffin in a cart
    That she lugged around, rain or shine

    The townsfolk said that it was her lover,
    Who had died the worst kind of death,
    And every month, when the moon was new
    She'd try to revive him with her breath.

    'She'd breathe on him,' Old Tim would swear,
    'And cry and cry when he wouldn't wake,
    She'd shake the box and shut the lid,
    And punch and punch till the cart would shake.'

    Come morning, she'd walk to the sea,
    And wash the wounds on her hand,
    The coffin behind her, on the cart, lay
    Still deathly still on the golden sand.

    She'd spend that day at the beach,
    And laugh and laugh from morn till eve,
    She'll talk aloud to her coffin'd lover,
    Whose silence she refused to believe

    Then one night the lover awoke,
    The townsfolk rang the bell of doom,
    Pitchforks up and lanterns alight,
    They rushed to where sea met the moon.

    The two stood together, face to face,
    Under the starry sky of a moonless night,
    Just a lover's span separating them,
    And nothing but each other in their sight.

    The tears that tumbled down her face,
    Mirrored the anguish he held in his eyes,
    A million moments passed 'tween the two,
    In the second it took for the sea to rise

    Some say the sea swallowed them both,
    For sin of breaking the laws of living;
    Others believe they walked into the waves
    As it was her home, her lover its king

    And thus till date, a wooden coffin,
    Lays abandoned on that nameless shore,
    It's wood unbroken and unweathered,
    The only witness of that unsung lore...


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    The Witch and Her Coffin