The sweetness at the end of the meadow (Day 1303; Part 4: C__)

4. C__

Not a witch but, if you had ever been, 

you would have forgotten by then 

how to cast a spell. Still, you have to agree 

that your snaking strands of silvery hair 

and walnut shell face might lead some 

to believe what was untrue,  

and isnt that a spell of its own, somehow? 

Two towels, one hand towel and a washcloth.

Surrounded by familiars — 

you had them by the dozens, didn’t you, 

though you would have called them your children, 

or your family or your friends, 

if you had called them anything at all, 

which never did. 

Two towels, one hand towel and a washcloth.

In exchange, a toothless grin, your eyes glittering 

from deep within an impenetrable forest, 

What was it your silence whispered in my ear?

wakening in me an earnest tenderness, curiosity, 

and that unique brand of pity reserved 

by the young for the fallen aged. 

Two towels, one hand towel and a washcloth,

until the day your familiars were removed,

and you, and nothing else was required.

© 2020 by Hannah Six