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James Morgan Poem
ALL HALLOW’S EVE
The skeleton with the wicked grin, and Resembling Benny Warner sat on a park Bench on Colvin St., a few doors from The corner.
There aren’t any more of those exquisite Chocolate bars left to eat. The costumed Goblins over on Hodge’s Run had Themselves a feast.
Legends persist of spooks in the attic at Number 603 Main, and dozens of jack O’ lanterns were quarantined, and lined Up on Magpie Lane.
Mrs. Benson’s dog had mysteriously Vanished never to return, while Mr. Parker was convinced his scarecrow was Persecuted in the maze of corn.
Wrapped tight in a moth-eaten army blanket, Chugging cider in the panic room, was Mr. Harding, The town mayor. He gave folks the ridiculous Estimation that the culprit was gourd by
A pumpkin.
Its trick or treat time as usual in a small town.
Copyright © James Morgan | Year Posted 2019
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