*an invasion of personal space*
|Monday, February 23, 2004
We are the witches who can make the sea bubble, we glide and twist and cartwheel along, and gather the sparkles behind us.
We are the witches with two silver tongues, spinning and twirling and throwing the clatter that shoots from our fingers and shoots from our palms.
We are the witches with gulls in our shoes, we flutter and float and swoop down to find you, scoopping up glitter with bags made of glass.
We are the witches who can make the sea bubble, it fizzes and stirs and sneezes a mist out in smoke rings that settle at your knees.
We are the witches you'll never miss, we jump across oceans by bouncing off bursts and make our way up to your door.
We are the witches with two silver tongues, spinning and twirling and throwing the clatter that shoots from our fingers and shoots from our palms.
We are the witches with gulls in our shoes, we flutter and float and swoop down to find you, scoopping up glitter with bags made of glass.
We are the witches who can make the sea bubble, it fizzes and stirs and sneezes a mist out in smoke rings that settle at your knees.
We are the witches you'll never miss, we jump across oceans by bouncing off bursts and make our way up to your door.
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