On Friday early as may be, take the fairest apple from a tree.
Then in thy blood on paper white, thy own name and thy true love's write.
That apple thou in two shall cut, and for its cure that paper cut.
With two sharp pins of myrtle wood, join the halves till it seem good.
In the oven let it dry, and wrapped in leaves of myrtle lie.
Under the pillow of thy dear, yet let it be unknown to you
And if it a secret be, you soon will show your love for thee.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts from a Lovesick Witch
PoetryA twenty-first century youthful mage, so as considered desperate for true love and affection, writes her thoughts and chants about the manifestations casted under her accountability in hopes to improve her love seeking.
