strolling through the pumpkin
patch, my only long sleeve coat
in the colour of red, and your
rustic burnt orange and cream
flannel jacket with the brown
hood and drawstrings not yet
pulled tight beneath your chin.
there's children laughing some-
where up ahead in this crowded
line of people, and the clomp, clomp
of horse hooves are steady as the crunch
of the cracked hayride carriage wheels
make their way through the gravel.
your body is ever so slightly ahead
of mine, and so I sneak a glance at you,
and something warm steams up
within me, and I realize that this is
the first time in years--maybe ever--
that in this spooky, cozy season, I
don't feel scared.
YOU ARE READING
OF SANITY AND MOODS AND SUCH
PoetryWelcome ghosts and mischievous tricksters. In this season of delightful spooks and devious treats, this mini poetry chapbook explores frightful fears and possession like it's a horror film, but outside, the autumn leaves fall down, and you're wrappe...
