Walking down a path I had traveled much before,

I came across a woman, her cry shaking me to the core.

I asked her why she wept, but she would not answer me,

but as she turned to face me I could almost not believe.

A face as white as eggshells, featureless and clean,

I felt a sense of dread come to descend and cover me.

I turned to escape to my home from the faceless and terrifying witch

and I was surprised to see that my plan went without a hitch.

I saw my wife and promptly breathed out a sigh of relief,

until she turned to face me and I could just stare in disbelief.

A face as white as eggshells staring back and then

I ran into the street to call for help but when

suddenly from nowhere my wife came running from the barn

I covered my head and cried out to defend myself from harm.

But when I heard her call out my name in her own sweet voice

I looked up and saw her beautiful face, her gait and elegant poise.

But if my wife, with her face and in the barn

was not in the house then who was she who trespassed on the farm.

And as we went back inside, certainly against my will,

there was nothing there to fear anymore, despite a lingering chill.

I know it was likely a poor farmers imagination

but as I lay in bed awake I fear my wife's face may be an imitation.