Summons me and I must go
Out for a ride on her broomstick,
Into the darkness and snow.
Eating my sardines and cream.
I don’t want to go broomstick riding,
I’d like to just curl up and dream...
I've practised her potions and spellwork,
And commuting this way makes me vexed -
Flying’s for birds, for a cat it’s absurd,
So - that witch has just got herself Hexed.
Poem © Lesley Moss