Witches' Brew

*cackles* Come and stew over my poem for a bit.

Witches' Brew

In a village cloaked in mist
in fog, thick as pea soup,
I witnessed some hocus pocus
as I spotted their frightening group.

The witches' cackles echoed
as they stirred their steamy pot.
What lies beneath the fumes?
What terrible magic they sought!

Their glowing eyes caught mine
and held me in a deep trance.
My sixth sense kicking in;
I watched the shadows dance.

They seemed to want to add me
to their slowly simmering brew,
they're missing a key ingredient
to complete their sickening stew.

As I turned to run away
a witch called out to me,
"It's not what you think my dear,
come over here and see!"

I tiptoed timidly towards them
with barely a glimmer of hope,
but when I reached the cauldron
I smelled the lavender soap.

I realized then, my own rank scent
is what had drawn their attention,
and offering up a nice warm bath
had been their sole intention.