Posted on Oct 31, 2014 in Poetry, Writing

The mist along
our crooked sidewalk,
The morbid song
of bats that wing overhead,
of the dead.
Come visit, wary kiddies,
Trick or treating
from your cities,
Bags in hand.
Come to me,
come make your stand!
And if the door creaks
Or if my black cat
across your feet,
Be brave little ones,
And don’t retreat!