How many times to sweep the room
Before I earn my witch’s broom?
Mom says once more might be the chore
That springs me from the humdrum floor
Out into skies, the moony night
Will witness my bewitching flight.
So I will sweep on through my sleep!
Yes, I will keep at it to leap
And never touch the land again
But for another witchy kin,
For I’m a witch and this broom’s mine,
Straw bristles top its piney spine,
No matter if for now I sweep,
My broom and I, ourselves we keep.