For the one night a year –
For the impossible stretches out fears,
farther reach towards possibilities overtly sheered;
Those lying in wait,
surrounded of sizable crates,
beneath filthy layers....
Sputter about as an opening puckers' at the gates;
Once more the retching mouths harsh with grim,
sporadically awoken; get to reuse shriveled limbs -
slipping; weaving; tearing through period disheveled things,
standing partially on once strong stems,
listening upon sounds for sore ears – given reminders of loss reheard,
true: a few may climb out in rambled parts – only natural to occur,
have another look upon changes the world left upon shutting eyes,
for on this gloaming, night-a-year ceremonious evening:
all he unrested,
shall again become animated from echoing cries.
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Cryptics' Fabled Tales
PoetryA poetry collection inspired by Halloween and all things wickedly Horror. Copyright © 2016-2018 By T. A. Hinson All Rights Reserved All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form...