Only a Witch

She sat primly on a bar stool,

Alone and waiting for someone,

That was my best guess,

Because she ignored everyone,

Occasionally she would sigh,

And someone would buy her a drink,

She would offer an angelic smile,

Giving the donor a reason to think,

One by one she rebuffed their efforts,

As each man offered her his best pitch,

Mentally she was called some names,

But none had nerve to call her “b----”,

The men became bolder as they drank,

While I sat silently sipping a cold brew,

Comments flew at her, coarse and rank,

While the night grew darker and a cold wind blew,

As a rule when the drinks flow free,

Most women get prettier as the night wears down,

But when she was accosted by two on a spree,

Her face wrinkled up into a giant frown,

Sparks flew from her once beautiful eyes,

And the roundness that filled her coal black dress,

Was forgotten for she was no longer a prize,

Their apologies they quickly tried to express,

She glared at them as time stood still,

Then picked up her hat and wished them well,

Her voice changed and became high and shrill,

While all stood frozen and under her spell,

Out the door she walked and onto the street,

She didn’t call a taxi, on a broom she flew,

Her voice was raspy and definitely not discreet,

“When Halloween is over, I’m coming back for you,”

I’m not sure if that was clearly meant for me,

But when night gets darker and a cold wind blows,

The men from that tavern wait eagerly,

And I sit patiently dreaming, for who knows?

Her words might be for me and they might be true,

She was beautiful so I’ve been practicing my pitch,

Yet I’m careful to stay sober as I sip just one cold brew,

Because I’m hoping she turns out to be only a witch.