Witches Soaring To Close To The Moon

Abracadabra, we gather 'round,

Of our coven, the world has not found.

Brewing potions and casting our spells,

Our cauldron's smoke spills upwards in swells.

~{^_^}~

Witches soaring too close to the moon,

Broomsticks and laughter, we'll be there soon.

But we're witches flying high off the ground,

In our pointy hats, we'll circle around.

~{^_^}~

The night is dark, the sky is vast,

On our broomsticks, we're having a blast.

While our cats sit a-bristle, we cackle and sing,

With our magical coven, we take to the wing.

~{^_^}~

Witches soaring too close to the moon,

Broomsticks and laughter, we'll be there soon.

But we're witches flying high off the ground,

In our pointy hats, the moon circles around.

~{^_^}~

We stir the cauldron, we chant and we brew,

Our hexes are wicked, there’s frogs in our stew!

Under cover of night, our secrets we keep,

With our spells, cross our coven, forever you’ll sleep.

~{^_^}~

With a wink of an eye and a twist of a rhyme,

We're dancing through time, weaving magic on-line.

Upon wooden wings, our laughter rings loud,

In this sisterhood of stitches, apart from the crowd.

~{^_^}~

Witches soaring too close to the moon,

Broomsticks and laughter, we'll be there soon.

But we're witches flying high off the ground,

Within darkened circles, your eyes dart around.

~{^_^}~

So when you see the night sky painted with stars,

Remember our names, though they may seem bizarre.

Witches flying high, we're the talk of the town,

In a world of dark fury, happiness we’ve found.