The Evil White Witch

• Jodie Kempton, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2010

The White Witch stared at me with eyes as cold as ice.
She raised her wand above her head with hair similar to a lion's mane.
She then pointed the want at me:
My heart beast as fast as Cathy Freeman running at the Olympics.
Suddenly a painful sensation ran through me -
First my forehead, next my chest, then my toes.
It then escaped as quickly as a child rushing to the Mr Whippy on a hot summer's day.
I was then as still as a statue and as silent as a grave.