The Lonesome Rock and other Poems and Shorts

Wayward Souls

I can feel the crisp wind

as it sings through the neighborhood.

Calling the dark,

the twisted,

out to play.

I can see the moon climbing the horizon

as if pulled by some invisible force.

It rises into the inky sky,

casting its ghostly glow down to earth

The sinister light of jack-o-lanterns

illuminates the street.

Wafting the smell of pumpkin and cinnamon with their light,

their leering faces,

horrifying yet comical,

scream silently into the void.

I can hear a cacophony of noise all around me;

the echoes of trick-or-treat,

the glee shrieks of children,

the whisper of candy wrappers

as they are wrenched open by small hands.

Slowly I rise from where I have been resting

beneath a lifeless tree.

Clambering to my feet I am invisible,

unseen by the masses swarming the streets.

They won't notice me,

they never do.

As I move through the throngs like a shadow,

just another gust of wind,

I sense something that I have not felt in a long time;

eyes on my back.

The sensation of being watched.

I turn silently.

Children walk right through me,

oblivious aside from the cold that comes off my skin.

They move on by with nothing but a slight sense of foreboding.

It will pass,

it always does.

I scan the crowds,

searching for the person whose gaze I felt on my back.

I almost turn back around

but then I see her,

a small girl.

She stares at me, tears frozen in her azure eyes

I move toward her swiftly,

ignoring the people around me.

Reaching down I grab her pale hand.

As frigid as my own,

it is tiny in my palm

Looking past her I see a small form crumpled against a wall.

Unmoving.

Wrenching my eyes away I look to her,

there is a smarting of rust colored speckles on her lips.

I kneel before the girl,

pulling her toward me in a futile attempt to warm her

"It's okay" I mutter to her,

"You are safe now.

You are free."

As I lead her away

back into the crowd of the living,

her small hand in mine,

I feel the pumpkins monitoring our retreat,

Mocking us.

Wayward souls,

forever more.