The Last Witch Poem by Marilyn Shepperson

As evening drew on into night
The rat, the cat, the bat and the owl
Left by the window that opened without a hand
To go about their business
Leaving only the sleeping toad
To each the other was an old friend
The witch, to whom these creatures were familiars
Sat on a three legged stool near the fire
Stirring a small cauldron, with a long spoon
Talking to the wall or herself, or maybe the skull
That sat on the mantelpiece above the fire
'While I stir', quoth the witch
'I think on things past, for I am the last of my kind
Long ago I was feared, had status, was rich
Yet today, most of what I brewed then
Can be bought from a shop in the town
'Tis only the spells and in this days' world
I very much doubt I could find what I'd need'
With this, she lifted the cauldron to the table
And sat to eat her supper, in between bites,
She still talked to the skull
If I had in store, what I had then, and could grant any wish
Probably between us, we'd annihilate the world'
She sighed as she glanced at the rows of dusty, empty jars and boxes
Even her broom stick had only a few twigs
But theh something occurred that hadn't happened
In centuries; the skull, human with two curling horns
Spoke in a voice like distant thunder
While all the time its' eyesockets glowed red
'Don't cocern yourself, old witch
About annihilating this world
With the people that presently occupy it
It's halfway there already'
And it laughed like a demon from hell.