Poem: A Pointed Tale

 A Pointed Tale

Her hat is quite pointed,

Her nose pointed too,

Her shiny black shoes

Have a pointy tip too,

Her elbows are pointed,

Her ears are as well,

So many sharp points

To this tale that I tell,

Her words and her fingers

Are pointed at me,

When she speaks

I just quiver

And shake in my knees:

I’m mean and I’m nasty,

I’m a witch (you were right),

Don’t point back at me,

Not on Halloween night.

I’ll point my black broom

Then zip through the night,

I’ll brew you some trouble

Before the first light.

So that is the point

Of this pointed short tale,

Don’t point at mean witches;

The tale won’t end well

For you.