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Mistress MAG
She moves across the watery edge
Over moors and through the trees
And as the moon lies in her bed
The ravens taunt a melody
A cool flame burns within her soul
It captures all that’s in the way
A touch of ice leaves them cold
Swirling rot in Earth’s decay
She rapes the air with clawlike hands
Gnarled fingers toil with greed
Smothering all with murky bands
Leaving her putrid brood to feed
Covering all with darkened mist
Trapping them without a light
Delivering a final kiss
Before she moves on through the night.
© Anonymous
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