kitchen witch

Pots simmer on unlit eyes
Their contents varied and indiscernible
Potted plants sit atop every raised surface
Their running vines covering the corners and floors
A sudden splash in the sink has her giggling
”That’s just Ted” she says
A toad peeks it’s head from under a soapy plate
She hums as she sweeps the floors
Though they never seem to be truly clean
She smiles as butterflies flit in through open windows
Her house seems a jungle and dirty to some
But to her it’s her little haven
Wild though it may be
And it suits her perfectly