The Wizard Poem by Marilyn Shepperson

Spiders spin lazy webs
Above the cetral figure
Who stands tall and sparse
Behind the old scared table
An aquiline nose divides
The long solemn craggy face
Beetling eyebrows are drawn in a frown
Above eyes of deepest blue
While his beard has length enough
To be tucked away behind the cord belt
Thin, elegant fingers twist and turn
Above a green glass bowl
Muttering under his breath, as he reads
From an ancient, dusty tome
The gown he wears was once brightly coloured
Now it's faded to shades of grey
At least it matches the tall steepled hat
That's stuck up on top of his silvery hair
Suddenly he reaches out and grabs
His faithful white staff, emerald crowned
Waving it over the bowl, this way and that
He cries out, 'That's it. I've cast my last spell'.