In the heart of the shadowed grove, they gather round,Whispering spells in the moonlight’s gentle glow.With ancient chants, their voices weave the sound,Of secrets only the midnight winds will know.Veils of mist swirl in the midnight air,As cauldrons bubble with potions deep.The witches’ laughter, a melody rare,Echoes through the forest, where secrets sleep.Under the stars, their silhouettes sway,A dance of mystery, old as time.The night embraces their mystical play,In rhythm with nature’s eternal rhyme.With dawn’s approach, their figures fade,Into the whispers of the waking day.Yet the magic lingers where they played,In the enchanted woods, where shadows stay.