ALL SAINTS’ Eve

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Halloween stirs soulless corpses:

Lamps they bear to

set paths free;

Ghouls wander near a sassafras tree.

The shadow of Death

—a stench so gross—

Haunts the spun yarn of grayish moss.

It shrouds a stranded row of crosses,

While pumpkin heads stomp their torches.

Across crossed out losses.

 

Jack o’ Lantern slumbers.

A lark sings as Magic sinks.

All Saints with hallows surge.

Ghouls purge their yearly sins.

Then drop off behind a church.

 

Behold, this time next year,

Get ready for the same fear…

 

Photo by Mausilinda.

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