It Must Be Halloween, a poem by Deborah Joan Jones at

It Must Be Halloween

It Must Be Halloween

written by: Deborah Joan Jones


The footsteps walked the corridor streaking blood and dirt
The screaming loud, unending, signaled someone being hurt
Strange laughing from the shadows disagreed with this sad scene
The deathly midnight wandering
It must be Halloween.

The birds flew from the moonlit trees as though in frightful worry
The rabbits and the wolves all dashed about in fearful hurry
The whining and the whimpering, what could this bloodbath mean?
The murdering had started here.
It must be Halloween.

The graveyard, fallen silent, under wisps of autumn frost.
Lit by stars and moon so bright, sad souls lay lonely, lost
Buried underneath the ground, what could these whispers mean?
Uprising of the undead ones
It must be Halloween.

Then children knocking at your door, the bowls of tricks and treats
The costumes of the scary kind, racing of small heartbeats.
The eerie and the deathly strange, this ritualistic scene.
Not one could sense what lurked beneath.
It must be Halloween.

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