Samhein Prowlin'

Stoically stalking,
stiffs stealthily swarm the Styx
with angst to bestow,

characters in crape
cunningly creeping across
to cook their eclair

from frothing phobia
and fractious fingers of fear--
fee-fi-fo-fum. Yum!

Traipsing through the trees
to a tryst with victims lured
into their trusty traps.

Leave no doubt. There’ll be
unalleviated grieving
on All Hallows’ Eve.