Mrs. Blossom was a witch,
we're pretty sure of that,
though she didn't have a broomstick,
wear a cloak, or pointed hat.
She brewed some strange concoctions
in her kitchen on her stove.
You could smell the deep aroma
from her house in Penny Grove.
Strange plants grew in her garden.
What they were, we never knew,
but they seemed to cure most anything,
from a little scratch to the flu.
We often used to call there,
under protest, I might say,
to deliver her some groceries.
Then we'd try to run away!
She'd thank us for our trouble
and would offer us some tea,
but she scared us when she spoke
from where her teeth once used to be!
We never saw a book of spells,
and she didn't have a cat,
but Mrs. Blossom was a witch.
We're pretty sure of that!
Poem About Children's Misconception Of An Adult
Mrs. Blossom
Published by Family Friend Poems June 2017 with permission of the Author.
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