by Janet Bunce
Every Halloween night I come by this house.
It opens up its windows to me and slams its doors.
When I creep inside I feel welcome.
I breathe in to feel the connection with days past.
I exhale the memories of people I have known. Their images dance on the walls of each room.
I breathe back in those I have loved, leaving only those that have done me harm. Their numbers are diminishing.
I ask for forgiveness knowing that it is a futile cause.
A witch even one that has worked for good will always be hated in Salem.
About the author
Author bio: Janet lives in the old market town of Saffron Walden and loves the history of the place. She works too much and finds it hard to find time to write but when she does finds it really fulfilling.
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