A Real Witch

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Pausing, I looked at the 28 pairs of eyes boring into me.

Each pair, looking for clues and conformation

Of what they suspected but needed reassurance of.

They blinked slightly too quickly as I scratched my head,

And, as I turned to look out of the window,

Eyes that widened, as they inspected my nose.

Dabbing a scented tissue against it,

I inhaled, a deep luxurious breath.

They could believe what they wanted,

I was who they wanted me to be.

They each gave me eye contact.

Was there hidden fire in my pupils?

But all was confirmed

In the unison downward glance,

Towards my trademark Dr Marten boots.

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