Ginger tea
Was prescribed
By the witch
And I inbibe it
Writing poetry.
Its not that she’s evil
Just magic
Not white or black
A mixed magic
One half, two quarters
To be exact.
She’s fetching
But there’s never any object
Clearly bewitching
But I can avoid that.
It’s a rarity
Intelligent, curious company
I guess that why I sit here
Alone writing poetry.
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