Soup Kitchen Witch

The artist gave you friendly features absent
In truth you wore no twinkle, nor a cheer

A portrait stern and pale would be faithful
To the evil witch whose heart I feared

Three souls you kept between the walls beneath you
A basement cold and damp with light of grey

Now and then you let us in to feel the warmth
Your things from little fingers were forbade

Mother begged to let her ill son sleep above
Still when Pneumonia struck your heart refused

The hospital was far too distant for you
Your car was not for others to intrude

To me you offered gifts but insincerely
To hurt my brother, gifts were two to one

You taught me scrabble with a dictionary
You roared and thundered when my score had won

I kept the name you handed to my Father
I kept the nightmares even when you died

But Damn the rules you wrote upon my canvas
Your scribbles have no substance in my mind

——–

Thanks to Rick Mobbs at Mine Enemy Grows Older for providing me with such an inspirational image prompt.