Magpie Tales#41

I use this week's prompt from the indefatigable Willow to continue the contest with my estranged husband Caddoc Trellis.  (Oops. Did I say "estranged"? Sorry, "strange" is what I meant . . . )

Witching Hour

Five to XI! (*) I brush my pointy hat
and sandpaper the splinters off my broom-
stick some eyes of frogs and blood of newts,
that sort of thing, into my portmanteau
and take a trial spin around the room.

(Wheeeeeeeeee! Out through the open window!)

The stars look down. The baleful Moon is full
of craters just like husband Caddoc's face.
I'll strafe his Shed with Witching Dust I've made
from ground-up bones and condiments to taste.

(That'll hexxxxxxx the poor old git.)

My Witching Dust's a Truth Drug. Just one sniff
he'll spill the beans. That "Trellis Fencing" blog
authored by "Cad" who I suspect is Caddoc -
he'll own up, just like falling off a log.

(Caddoc!  Are you in there?  Come out and fight!)

Drifting smoke suggests he's frying wee dead mice
in batter. And he thinks that I'm the witch!
Perhaps we should join forces. Combined spells
could lure a Gardener back to an Old Bitch . .  ?
He's such a softie. (So am I at heart.
Perhaps, perhaps we could make a fresh start . . ?)


(Coooeeee!  Caddoc  . .  all could be forgiven . . . )


(*) Pronounce as "five to ex eye", or "five to eleven"  
Either suits the "pentameter" reasonably well. Schimples!