idea: a limerick about how to get a witch pregnant

A Lime-Green Echo of What Might Be

A witch’s yearning,
A power burning,
To bloom a life, wild and free.

But listen close,
A chilling thought takes hold,
In folklore’s tangled tales,
Stories old.
A whispered jest,
A cruel, mocking test,

On sacred paths,
A heart grown cold.

The magic woven,
A vibrant, deep hue,
Is not a bargain, broken and untrue.
A life is a gift,
A fragile, precious lift,

Not bought or coaxed, but nurtured anew.

The Green Whisper Fades

A mournful sigh,
Reflecting shadows in a witch’s eye.
For power’s embrace,
Can’t fill an empty space,

And true fulfillment blooms
Where love does lie.

So let the lime-green dream softly cease,
Embrace the quiet, find inner peace.
A life’s gentle art,
A beating, hopeful heart,

Is worth more than any witch’s release.