Marcy Macklemore

A haunting Halloween ballad about a ghostly woman searching for her lost child.

She was always mysterious about her past.

They said she was born when the autumn wind gasped,
When the veil grew thin and the shadows massed,
And the harvest moon burned cold and vast.

She walked where pumpkins rotted slow,
Where scarecrows whispered things they know,
And children swore they’d seen her glow,
In candlelight’s uncertain throw.

Some claimed she danced with the dead in mist,
Her laughter soft as a spider’s twist,
Her breath the chill no dawn could lift,
Her tears like dew the grave had kissed.

They said she’d trade a soul for flame,
Or speak your future, if you spoke her name,
But those who tried were never the same,
And silence followed where once there came.

Now every Halloween she drifts once more,
Past cracked old fences and broken doors,
Her lantern swinging, her heart unsure,
Still seeking the child she lost before.

So when the night is cold and vast,
And you hear her sigh through leaves that rasp;
Don’t call her name, don’t cross her path.

She was always mysterious about her past.

Line Count: 24
Prompt: Begin AND End your story or poem with this line - it must be bolded.
She was always mysterious about her past.
Written for: "The Writer's Cramp"