There’s a new broom standing in my cleaning cupboard…and this is what it made me write…
There stands the broom so slim and tall,
Serenely still against the wall:
Recovered now from former flights,
Its tail a-twitch these autumn nights.
What tales this rocket ship could tell
To those who’d understand it well,
Adventures played out on the fly,
Each time it zooms toward the sky.
The pilot, wrapped around its shaft,
Clings effortlessly, fore and aft,
While lesser critters, world around,
Are relegated to the ground.
Her classic shape against the moon
Reveals the power of the broom,
As up into the stars she rises,
Full of magical surprises.
Of course, as Halloween approaches,
The cloak of winter dark encroaches,
Mere mortals hunker down inside,
While witch and broom prepare to ride!
Then on that night of all the nights,
When other horrors, too, may fright,
The broom shakes off its long repose,
The witch may twitch a longer nose,
And as we wonder how and why,
They cleave and navigate the sky.
