Witchwood

I dropped down in the witchwood

To see what I could find

The trees had taken time out

To blow away my mind

All that I could hear there

Was the sound of my own voice

But the music it was making

Was nothing of my choice.

The interwoven branches

Were laden deep with snow

A rainbow shone so softly

To show which way to go

I observed its many colours

Till my eyes were rimmed with frost

I tried hard to trace my footsteps

For I feared I might get lost.

The witchwood started singing

With a strange unearthly sound

My fingers grew like branches

I stood rooted to the ground

And the spell is still unbroken

I am still her bidden slave

Till a casket from the witchwood

Bears my body to the grave.