And the witch sits alone in her crooked house,
crooked in every way
– her nose is as bent as her broomstick,
her magic as busted as her back,
which curls itself around her
cauldron.
What is more beautiful
than this?
for writers, readers and performers
And the witch sits alone in her crooked house,
crooked in every way
– her nose is as bent as her broomstick,
her magic as busted as her back,
which curls itself around her
cauldron.
What is more beautiful
than this?