My soft, black cat licks me awake.
I eat my breakfast of cold, raw steak.
I go out into the dark woods and hunt
For ingredients for a potion to make my teeth blunt.
And when it grows dark, I look for mushrooms,
Soaring up high on my flying broom.
These mushrooms will help me with many things—
Growing long nails and leathery wings.
To tell my future, I see the local seer
Then I go back home to break a mirror.
They say this brings you good luck, you see,
Or perhaps that belief is unique to me.
At last I curl up in my spiderweb cot
And go on to sleep without a thought.
