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It creeps up each year before November,
When the darkest of nights come around.
The kid looks around for a hand to dismember,
To the churchyard he strays, to hallowed ground.
There the dead he finds, cold in the grave,
With spade in hand, he searches you out,
Digging each spade full, he thinks he is brave,
Black cat jumps up, with a scream, he scampers out.
Back he comes the intrepid one of the gang,
To finish the job of finding the severed limb,
As the lid creaks open, putrid air leaks out,
Slowly then as his trembling hand reaches in,
It is grasped by bony lifeless fingers from within,
As the scream is caught in the trespassers throat,
From the coffin below a hazy form drifts out,
I will not let you go, our rest you have defiled.
Eternity you will spend with us, you loathsome child,
Now we all here will be rid of the Halloween pest.
© Dave Timperley All Hallows Eve 31 October 2019
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