From his serpentine face to the bone-
chilling way, in which he hisses arch
nemesis’s name. Women, stand with
their lips quivering pale, whispering,
‘he who must not be named.’
Oh wishes to rid world of mudbloods
he says, ohh please! Has he ever seen
in the mirror his face? Pretends to be
civil but in the end he’s a wizard with
a superfluous case.
Sometime, near the swamp where the
orchids glow, he maneuvers yet again,
never changing his clothes. He pleads
justified, croons to bright green snake.
‘How can you live with yourself, Sanaa’
he asks, eyeing me with ridicule, scorn.
‘I don’t know. But unlike you I happen,
to have a keen nose.’
Photo credits: Harry Potter Wiki – Wikia
Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads