Don’t go past the graveyard tonight.
It’s late and dark, just right for a fright.
The souls are restless, spiteful and loud,
keeping the threats they once avowed.
Witches fly high, while zombies lie low.
Spirits float where cold winds blow.
Shadows stumble between the trees,
while old hobgoblins taunt and tease.
Heavy footsteps leave deep treads
upon ancient eternal rotting beds.
Whispers echo over crypts and stones
as wind rattles teeth and skeleton bones.
Bats take to wing in pale moonlight.
Beware what walks the graveyard tonight.
Poem: McGuffy Ann Morris
Image: Public Domain