BELLADONNA

The archaic skull of a poisoned doll
With her keratose frame
Now lies buried below.

It was long, long ago
Upon frost-bitten knolls
A maiden...once fair
Had been stripped of her soul.

She would dance and sing
In the mountains forest
While she smiled, picking flowers
For the towns only florist.

On this cold winters morn
She collected a bunch
But felt ever so hungry
So not waiting for lunch
She sought out some nuts
And berries as such
But a nightshade, deadly
Had the final... last laugh.
As the toxic plant
Wrote her epitaph....

Many years had then passed
And the grievers dismissed
The  honour..
Of  'Belladonna'....
She was no longer missed.

But a deadly medley
Soon exhumed in revolt
As salivating screams
Gave their memories a jolt.

A baleful banshee then awoke from the grave
Spreading her scorn of the deadly nightshade
Her wailing ...
A warning...
She was given thy name..
'Belladonna the Banshee'
Was her last claim to fame.

Carey Milton ©