The Edge of Forty Autumns
Beneath the amber autumn light,
Where plastic masks were thin and cold,
We wandered in the gathering night,
Back when the neighborhood felt old.
?The pillowcases sagged with sweets,
The jack-o'-lanterns burned with lime,
And through the dim, familiar streets,
We walked along the edge of time.
?A boombox hummed a shadowy tune,
The VHS was taped and slow,
Under a low, pale October moon—
Forty autumns long ago.
?We didn't see the silent thread
That pulled our childhood to the grave,
Or know the voices of the dead
Were echoes of the love we gave.
?Now streetlamps flicker, quiet, lone,
The porch light’s gone, the dark is deep;
The ghosts we dressed as turned to bone,
And only memories refuse to sleep.
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