In the woods where shadows creep,
Where twisted trees in silence sleep,
Lives Baba Yaga, wild and wise,
With ancient fire behind her eyes.
Her hut on legs walks through the gloom,
A place of both fortune and doom.
The lost and helpless seek her door,
Hoping for gifts, but she gives more.
“Come in, come in,” her raspy call,
“To those who need, I give my all.
But understand, no spell is free,
You’ll earn your fate, as it must be.”
A girl once came with teary plea,
“Save me from my misery.”
Baba Yaga stirred her brew,
“Then tell me first, what can you do?”
The girl cried out, “I’m weak, I’m small,
I cannot work, I cannot crawl.”
The witch just laughed, her eyes aglow,
“Then you are not prepared to grow.”
She vanished then without a trace,
Leaving the girl to face her place.
But others came, their spirits strong,
Seeking where their hands belong.
A farmer begged for fertile lands,
He brought his plow, his calloused hands.
“Good,” Yaga said, “You’ve come with toil—
Now plant your dreams into the soil.”
A craftsman sought to find his way,
He worked through night, he worked by day.
“Ah,” she said, “You’ll earn your keep,
For those who build, shall never weep.”
So Baba Yaga’s lessons clear,
To those who work, you need not fear.
The witch rewards the self-made path,
Her wisdom hides behind no wrath.
For those who help themselves with pride,
Find Baba Yaga on their side.
2024 ©️
The Royal Octopus 