a descent into poetry insanity |
| in the light of the moon when all is chill and rotting leaves perfume the sky when graveyards are empty for ghosts roam the hills and pumpkins and turnips go walking until their fire bright faces grin wide as they thrill, while shrieking their triumphant cries— on All Hallows Eve all the living should fear— should shiver and sob through the night. instead we send children with innocent cheer to blackmail for candy with painted veneers— everyone has a mask at the dark of the year— until the dead fade with dawn’s light. line count: 12 1 October Prompt ▶︎ |