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Samuel Okike
Student, Copywriter, Photographer, Poet, Philosopher @ Ibadan
The witch and the little girl
<p>“The Witch and the Little Girl”</p><p><br/></p><p>In a crooked hut on the forest's edge,</p><p>Where the trees all whisper and owls allege,</p><p>Lived an old, bent witch with eyes of flame,</p><p>Few knew her story, fewer her name.</p><p><br/></p><p>She stirred her pot with a bone-white spoon,</p><p>Singing strange songs to the blood-red moon.</p><p>With silver hair and fingers long,</p><p>Her voice was wind, her magic strong.</p><p><br/></p><p>One quiet night, as stars blinked wide,</p><p>A little girl wandered far from the side—</p><p>Of her mother’s path and the village light,</p><p>Drawn by the witch’s flickering light.</p><p><br/></p><p>She peeked through the door with eyes so round,</p><p>While the witch made potions that steamed and frowned.</p><p>“Come in, little footstep,” the old witch said,</p><p>“Are you lost, or chasing stories you’ve read?”</p><p><br/></p><p>The girl stepped in with a nervous grin,</p><p>She smelled of berries and summer skin.</p><p>“I want to learn,” she bravely spoke,</p><p>“Not run away or treat you a joke.”</p><p><br/></p><p>The witch looked close with a crackling smile,</p><p>Then nodded her head after quite a while.</p><p>“No fear in your heart, no hate in your stare—</p><p>You may just belong in magic’s care.”</p><p><br/></p><p>So side by side, night after night,</p><p>They danced with shadows and whispered to light.</p><p>The girl grew wise, her eyes turned deep,</p><p>Learning the secrets the dark woods keep.</p><p><br/></p><p>Now tales are told when the full moon glows,</p><p>Of an old young witch the forest knows—</p><p>And a little girl who came to be,</p><p>The keeper of truth and mystery.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p>
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