Potions

The soft spoken words that wind their way
Through the melody, weaving a song-tapestry
To beguile and entrance.
The cascading notes that spiral upwards through
The lyrics and carry the tune to the realm of
The stars and beyond.
The breathless hush of people gathered in awe,
Serenaded and soothed by the musical magic
Of a summer spell.
What witchcraft is this, my friend, that holds
Us in thrall for so long, and that suspends the
Passing hour in the amber of the
Gently buzzing bee?

(c) 2ndwitch, 25/06/17