123 Witches Lane

Everyone knows that you don’t go to 123 Witches Lane

The lone decrepit house on the corner of the street

With dead spindly trees and plants that looked like clumps of ash

The path leading up to it broken and jagged, from time or battle

The house rotted and ruined as if held up by a curse

Windows rusted, dirty black curtains on the inside blocking any view in

No one dared walk up to the door, the mail left on the splintered porch

A pile of paper, bills, advertisements, ready for an avalanche

There had been many postman, no one lasted long

For it is said they all went quite mad

Claiming to hear whispering curses

Kids dared to knock on that old door one Halloween decades ago

All three were never seen again

People say the witches took them

For punishment or trainees, depends on the person telling the tale

Needless to say, parents forbid their children to trick or treat there

Because everyone knows that you don’t go to 123 Witches Lane