When the frost is on the pumpkin,
and the chill is in the air,
Tis the time to gather ’round, for
some thrilling spooky fare.
With October, sibilant whispers,
slipping softly through the trees,
Go scuttling down your neck,
putting knocking in your knees.
All old houses appear haunted, to
the trick-or-treating crowd.
Though they try, to seem
undaunted, they are bound to
scream, out loud!
For, the thrilling is so chilling, and
the very air’s alive,
As they peer, into the darkness,
and just hope, they will survive.
Though the years, of childhood
and our trick-or-treating’s done;
And we laugh, at fears unfounded,
still we long, for all the fun.
And a little thrill stays with us, from
the Halloweens, we’ve known,
That we take out each October,
and polish, for our own.
By Donna Ferguson Dudley