Rose Winning Entry

Sight bound by wretched leaves of brine,
Purveyor of goods from the deep sea line,
The witch of the sea has a heart that doesn't pine,
For the world above the water that is mine.

Beneath the caves and curves of the sea,
Does the sea witch carve a dream for thee.
Not pumpkins for the coming eve,
But green monsters does she conceive.

Should you venture into Sango Reef
On the night of lanturns and of grief,
Imagine not a glow of orange sheath,
But think instead of the magicked thief.

Happy Lanturnacht, Mistica!