In the shadows of the forest deep,
Where moonlight dares not tread,
The witches gather secrets to keep,
Whispering spells of the dead.

By cauldron’s glow and candle’s flame,
Their ancient magic weaves,
On winds they softly speak a name,
That binds the heart, deceives.

Beneath the stars, their voices hum,
A melody of might,
Through midnight’s veil, the spirits come,
Enchanted by the night.

With herbs and chants, they craft their lore,
In twilight’s mystic dance,
The witches’ power, whispering more,
A spellbound, eerie trance.