Xander swung open
The door of his dorm room
There upon the floor
Lay a brown box
Folded in on it's self.
Curious of what it contained
He opened the box
Releasing large hands
From their dragnet.
He gasped as they wrapped
Their fingers round his head
Drawing him within their berth
The four hinges snapped shut.
As their mistress the local witch
Whom Xander had tarnished
Crouched to retrieve
Her enchanted valise.
YOU ARE READING
LOST GIRLS
PoetryThose considering themselves lost girls of society. Godesses of creation among men. Or nymphs of nature. These poems were written for you.
