Stop sweets, just before you lair yourself inside my soul,
Good candy corn and chocolates! Magnificent. Wonderful. Tastey. Lovely.
Come home old age traditions.
I am still seven here and my mother always smiles.
"Go fetch your brother," she says, "He'll have the pumpkin!"
Good brother, the one who always picks the greatest pumpkin.
And a good pumpkin he picked.
Hello round and orange, whose shape is faceless.
We'll soon carve life into your bulb of a canvass.
Mr. Pumpkin, Jack, how would you prefer to flicker? Scary? Happy? Sad?
Who put these webs here? couldn't be the spiders i saw.
These webs are white and made of cotton.
The crawlers that hang here are plastic. Dad must've done this. He always does.
Good job wind. You smell of autumn and blow just hard enough to sway our ghosts a little
I move to the end of my porch, step... step
Shaking! The fluctuations of shaking pitches in a cheap form of drop D.
Its our plastic grim reaper.
He shakes to his tune, occassionally interupting the lovely sounds with "Happy Halloween!"
This will be a happy halloween.
Last night 'twas witching Hallowe'en
Dearest; an apple russet- brown
I pared, and thrice above my crown
Whirled the long skin; they watched in keen;
I flung it far; they laughed and cried me shame
Dearest, there lay the letter of your name!