All Hallow's Eve

Upon the path where crooked branches lean, The moonlight spills a silver, ghostly flame. The night is dressed in masks both dark and green, And whispers drift that dare not speak a name. The pumpkins grin with jagged, fiery breath, Their hollow laughter chills the autumn air. The shadows dance a slow, enchanted death, While owls cry warnings none would choose to share. The children roam with lanterns in their hands, Each footstep echoes louder than it should. The ancient wind obeys no mortal’s plans, It prowls the streets and stirs the restless wood. Yet still we walk, though reason tells us “flee,” For thrill and fear are twined in revelry.