World's Worst Witch After her husband’s heart stopped, She decided being a widow wasn’t enough. She thought she would become a witch Like some women take up golf or crochet. It seemed like it ought to be easy. This was on a lonely farm. There were black cats galore. She was already haggard. The wart that had always bothered her Seemed an asset now. There were plenty of brooms leaning around. More difficult was figuring out what it was Witches do. Night-work, she figured. Something with stews. She went to the library To do research, running her long finger Over pages of folklore. She knew She should be cross with the young Librarian with the glasses and the bob But she couldn’t help but give The girl a smile. She grew her hair out, Stopped brushing it. Caught toads, But couldn’t bring herself to boil them. The long black dresses she wore, People mistook them to mean She was still in mourning. Full moons, she tried straddling brooms, But nothing happened. She had to accept that She was bad at being a witch. Maybe it wasn’t something you could decide To be, but something you either Were or weren’t. And so She who had wanted to fly and cackle Swept and wept.
Great writing. Very engaging. A bit of a sad story, but with so much beauty shining through.