* * * * * DO WHAT YOU LOVE * * * * *
Broken urns, their flowers dead.
Bloody footsteps, lightly tread.
Goblins and ghouls,
Puddles and pools
Of putrid stinking wretched gore.
Puce sticky ichor,
Masked eyeballs flicker,
Tarantulas creep across the floor.
Black hissing cats,
Frankenstein lurching down the street.
A windswept sheet,
Two eyes that peek,
Floats and knocks, demanding treats.
"Trick or treat. Smell my feet. Gimme something good to eat.
"Gimme candy. Or else…"👻
Lisa H. Owens
Shhh. Not a poet!
October 21, 2021