The Psalmist and The Witch

I was a saint who dabbled in spells
And she a witch in scriptures
Our rhymes and riddles enchanting many
With manipulating pictures

We were great in our regard
Paying no heed to lack of fame
Perfected our gift better than most
Or any great you’d name

But know each other we never would
My beautiful poetess
To the grave we’d go apart
In poetic bitterness