Moon Witches

Moon’s full. Its silence had been betoken
 On July midnight through the deep dark forest
 Have been heard the witches’ voices chorus
 That who have kindled the bonfire, unspoken
There are 3 of them. The flame is dancing within
Their pupils. And they stand surrounding
The little glade. Their lips are parched, they are rounding
“Come if you are!” Conjure! I do compel thee!”
They are unknown. Faces veiled. Although
The glitter of their eyes still has been seen.
One of that witches wearing shining ring
The other’s got blood-spotted Spanish poniard
 So gently clasped by string of azure topaz
The wrist of that who was the younger one
She pours the blood from bottle into fire
with her hands shaking. Yet she didn’t notice
 The lurid blade of poniard glinted above her head
She felt into the fire screaming of salvation
Which never being. Then was ill-omened incantation
 By lips of scorched were rounding with regret
But still at dawn the forest kept its silence
 The glade was as it always used to be
When suddenly as if been woven of mist
The girl passed through… by step of burning violence….