Sunday, October 31, 2010

In night of chill, When the wind blows ill

And evil lurks well nigh

With crack of twig and shadows big

And eyes that follow you by

The timbers groan as spirits moan

And the moon hangs cold in the sky

Old headstones lean, with moss between

And echoes of ghostly sigh

Hurry home, my Dear

Allay your fear

Worry not of where you’ve been

Enjoy the eve and make believe

And have a Happy Halloween!

- K August, 2010