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Setting fire to the midnight sky
She takes off, upon her broom

Halloween, the witch’s right
Tis the hour of certain doom

She leaves her black cat, safe at home
As she flies about, through the clouds

He mews his loudest, atop the dome
She repeats to him, he’s not allowed

This is her night, to release her wrath
Probably better if you stay home, too

For the broom of doom, in its aftermath
Makes you, the main course, for her stew


October Writing Prompt – The Broom of Doom – Day 24/31

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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