P J Perryman Books

THE MAN SPELL 6

Franny was running late. She made a lunge for her picnic basket and strapped it to the back of her broom. She had a date with Sheridan by the lake and she was ever so late. She stepped outside her front door, mounted her broom, and with a quick push off the ground was soon high in the air, speeding to meet him.

She found Sheridan, lying naked by the lake, gazing into the twilight sky.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Franny. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not at all,” said Sheridan. “I’ve been composing a poem in honor of the Man Spell. Would you like to hear it?”

“Sure.”

“Ahem.

I kissed my witch, both high and low,

I’ve delved into her bosom,

But many a soul is lost inside.

That naughty Franny’s chasm.

 **

A man would travel hill and dale,

From heaven’s gate…

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