Moonlight’s Dance
In a forest of shadows, where moonbeams entwine, Dull Mildred the Witch brewed her potions divine. Her cauldron bubbled, its contents a brew, Of nettles and whispers, and stardust that flew.
One eve, as the crescent moon peeked through the trees, A rustling approached—a sound on the breeze. The Night Creeper emerged, cloaked in starlight, Eyes like constellations, a mystical sight.
“Who dares disturb my solitude?” Mildred asked, Her broomstick at hand, her curiosity unmasked. The Night Creeper grinned, his voice a soft hum, “I seek moonlit secrets; perhaps you have some?”
They circled each other, two creatures intrigued, Mildred’s hat tilted, her heartstrings fatigued. “Names matter little,” the Night Creeper mused, “But stories we share—those are never refused.”
So they sat by the cauldron, under moon’s gentle sway, Exchanging tales of magic, love, and dismay. Mildred spoke of spells gone awry, potions amiss, While the Night Creeper shared dreams in a kiss.
He whispered of moonflowers that bloomed at night, And how stars wove their wishes in silvery light. Mildred laughed, her dullness now a mere guise, As they danced to the rhythm of enchanted skies.
Their laughter echoed through ancient oak trees, As Mildred and the Night Creeper swirled with ease. For in that moon-kissed moment, they found their delight, Two souls entwined—magic meeting magic that night.
And so, Dull Mildred shed her mundane disguise, Becoming a witch who could soar to the skies. The Night Creeper? Well, he remained a mystery, A moonbeam-bound secret, forever in history.