November Poem-a-Day Challenge.
Day 1 Prompt: Write something about matches. 
Oh my.  Here goes:

Then there was the one about the witch
who walked into a bar
in search of a match.

I don’t recall the punchline, though
I know she’d lost her broom,
and snow was in her hair.

Perhaps she’d lost her wand as well,
forgotten the Latin words
for ignite, combust, enkindle.

I heard she called a taxi
before she wandered out into the wind,
leaving behind her the scent of sulfur and jasmine.