The Witch of Halloween

Having been born on Halloween, I felt the fear deep in my bones.

Roger's Rhymes & Rambles

Underneath below the pale faced moon,

far beyond the sun at noon,

creeping in the darkness soon,

the witch of Halloween.

Her footfalls near a lonely grave,

entombed a common lowlife knave,

now just bones that none could save,

will live on Halloween.

Her bones creak, her skin it tore,

nails grow into a claw,

oozing blood from flesh that’s raw,

this dark All Hallows Eve.

She casts a spell upon the earth,

the skeletons unnatural birth,

a ghastly sound betrays her mirth,

this dark All Hallows Eve.

Grey rotting skin and sunken chest,

craving, hunger, cannot rest,

fresh from a tomb that evil blessed,

on All Saints Eve shall rise.

Black cat slinks, wears down its prey,

long since left the bright of day,

claws sink deep where life can’t stay,

on All Saints Eve shall rise.

As the bell tolls I would implore,

stay inside behind locked door,

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