Bony Fingers
Bony fingers, thin and white,
Scratching at the moonlit night.
Shadows dance, a twisted play,
Where whispers haunt and secrets sway.
The wind sighs low, a chilling moan,
As cobwebs cling, and leaves are blown.
A hollow laugh, a rasping sound,
From where the dark and shadows bound.
A chilling touch, a ghostly grip,
On trembling hearts, a fear to slip.
Bony fingers, cold and stark,
A chilling omen, leaving their mark.
Through misty veils and swirling haze,
They reach for souls in a macabre maze.
The night descends, a haunting scene,
Where bony fingers, dark and keen,
Will claim their due, come Halloween.
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