“for what would you wish from a witch?”

from this one?

everything. never all of it,

but everything.

plane trips and soups and christmas trees and sickness tissues

and birthdays and sore feet

and corkboards

and letters exchanged and baths and nightmares soothed and

shopping lists and bills missed and

stanzas weighed and rearranged

and coffee and rope knots

and sweets and slivers and sneezes and trees and

roofs and backrubs and space

held for heartbreaks

and solitude protected

and fights and cuddles on the couch and

plans and lips bitten

and asses bitten

and runny noses

and pickles and old sheets changed together and

phone calls and photos made and

songs sung and steps danced and

bikes ridden and books and

buttered bread and cheese melted

and hot sauce and flannel sheets

and cognac and candles and car rides

and children held

and children taught

and white nights and languages

and earth and moons and howls.

everything.

but always leaving enough for her,

and enough for whom she also shares it with.

that’s what i wish for from this witch.