The witch and the sage

A silly poem that came to me one morning on my way to work. Gotta pass the time somehow, right?

The witch sat quietly in her castle,
Content and glad to avoid the hassle.
Heroes’ feasts and parties double,
She could do without the trouble,
And if the hosts declared they missed her,
She would grant them a sore blister!

As she lounged in peace and quiet,
Suddenly there was a riot!
From below the floors all shook,
Knocking down her pet rook!
The witch jumped up and started,
And oh, the embarrassment, she farted!

She focused on her magic eye
To see who'd made the tower cry.
She tried, and tried, to no avail,
As if the eye was covered by a veil.

Then she frowned, her eyebrows joined.
Up till now she was just annoyed.
Now her eye was destroyed,
And her anger brewed and boiled.
"I wonder who, I wonder why,
Who destroyed my scrying eye? "

Twas a question most perplexing
And the answer, oh so vexing!
Her skin aflame with red rage,
She cursed and cursed at the old sage.

"Blast you to a thousand pieces,
You old geezer, you deceiver.
My vengeance shall be swift and cruel! 
I shall make my special gruel."
She smiled an evil, dreadful smile,
Then laughed a laughter most, most vile.

She placed her cauldron on the fire
To teach a lesson most dire.
She measured this and poured in that,
Tidying her unruly hat.

"Just you wait, you wait and see.
My potion will destroy thee!!"
She cackled and stirred, she stirred and cackled,
The cauldron bubbled and the fire crackled.

As for the mage who's dying soon?

He's sleeping soundly in his room,
Peacefully oblivious of his impending doom!

The Cactus