Witches, an introduction

Under the moon's pale, ghostly light, Amidst the shadows of the night, They gather in their secret place, With magic writ upon each face.

Their hands reach out to gather power, As spirits swirl around the bower, Whispers rising, rising high, As dark enchantments fill the sky.

The air is thick with ancient lore, As they dance upon the forest floor, Their voices rising in a chant, A dark and eerie, otherworldly rant.

And when the dawn begins to break, They vanish, leaving not a trace, But in the minds of all who see, The memory of their sorcery.