Comfort Food

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Poems


Just a little humor set among the gravestones.

Submitted: October 10, 2017

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Submitted: October 10, 2017

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The thirty-first of October might be over

When the eyes appear in the dark.

It is the day of the dead waiting to shed

It's Veil of grotesque and stark.

 

As each Ghoul and Goblin are snugly tuck in,

With their bags and candy stashed safely away,

November comes lurking, sneering, and smirking,

Demanding attention for its very first day.

 

At the witching hour by the mission's bell-tower

Some spirits may circle and fly all around.

They are free for the night in spirited flight

And not confined to their home in the ground.

 

It's not Halloween and not in-between

It is a spiritual observance, once begun,

And how it's achieved or emotionally believed

Is up to each family in the way it is done.

 

So let's remember on the first of November

Those loved ones departed and are gone to stay.

Then we could open some candy, if it's handy,

To cheer us up --- on such a solemn day.

 

 

JE Falcon

10-09-2017

 

 


© Copyright 2018 JE Falcon. All rights reserved.

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