In
the night
the
Piper’s song
comes
blaring through
our
chimney’s.
He
skips away
with
children’s souls
appease
the Witch of Ginger.
Her
face, it sags.
Men
run away.
Children
stay
for
the sweets she makes.
The
children are
her
prize as promised.
For
the Piper will
make
good on the bargain.
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