The pumpkin's almost done, each pip sticking to the edges, not wanting to be parted from its mother.
The fresh, chilly new winters gale collided into her by the ajar window and she shivered.
She could see the orange moon glide vividly across the bed of lilac clouds; night was yet to come.
A single candle was placed inside the Jack-o-lantern and she lit it for fun.
Imagining a bunch of dancing witches sing amongst the undisturbed flames.
She smiled knowingly at such glee a cackle they make.
The distant sun shone from a crack in the blues and violets of the skyline.
Triangle eyes of the pumpkin rejoiced silently at her and her minds eye was triumphant.
Its jagged teeth, some square, some not poked out from a smirking grin.
Then she climbed the wooden stairs and got whisked away in a night of amazing simile and superstition.
Her wardrobe threw clothes at her and each garment was her friend.
Racing to the front room again, she looked to her orange companion; casting a purple shadow.
Her cloak trailed excitedly after her body and the black boots clipped on the thin rug beneath her fish-netted feet.
Halloween was here again and what a rush of anxiety it brings to her soul.
She and her pumpkin made readiness in dancing about the egg soaked roads, to become engrossed in a number of friends and stink-bombs.
By Jodie Hannen
For Linda Marie The sweetheart of P.S "Holiday Hearth" Poetry Contest