To celebrate Samhain, here is a wee offering, written a few years ago.
All Hallow's Morn
They gather round the cemetry,
that Gothic bone reposit'ry,
where moon's soft cast and silver'd hue
doth fade 'neath monolithic Yew.
Un-teathered souls shall show remorse
as incantations gather force.
'An harm ye none' the Witch decreed,
reciting from the Wiccan Rede.
Where Saints descend as Sinners rise
adorned with masks that trick the eyes,
to seeing what we wish to see,
within each ghosts' eternity.
The coldest hearts deserve the chance
to sing, to scream, to play and dance,
until the first soft rays of dawn,
that herald in 'All Hallow's Morn'