Witchcraft

The year is almost over, dear friend
The sun is low in the sky
The trees have no leaves to rustle
And the seasons are starting to die

You came to me with a gift you had made
With three candles, some stillness and calm
The love that you gave was whispered away
Into white spells, castings and charms

You took the power that grew through the grass
That sank roots deep into the ground
And you drew it into the words that you wrote
The signs that you drew all around

And the night grew silent, the night that you chose
I suppose I didn’t know what to expect
The light grew and grew and it filled the whole room
I was waiting and holding my breath

When my eyes would reopen to the glow of the sky
When I wasn’t too dazzled to see
I searched and I travelled for weeks in your wake
I was weakened and you had left me

But I carry the gift in my hands and my head
I committed words to memory
My mind was inside of my body, my life
And your wisdom allowed me to see

The year comes around, almost another one gone
The sun begins its descent
The trees let go of their last few leaves
We await the new seasons you sent.