The Witching Hour
When all else fails in the "witching" hour of night,
Full of grace and sex in the pale moonlight,
She rides in on her electric broom
To fulfill the fantasies that crowd the room.
Slithering up next to him, she hears his plea
Whispering his recognizance in her grim majesty
He thrills her, drills her, quells her desire
She fuels and quenches his passion and fire
As the clock ticks away it minutes and hours
The moonlight brings in rays of the sun's morning showers
Misty Jewell 9/21/06
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