Greg Budig 2020
Smiling from the
front porch window.
Behind ghostly sheer
and wispy white curtains.
An almost sneer has been
jaggedly cut for a mouth.
Eyes carved up in a
sharply surprised angle.
A perfect triangular nose.
A stub of a candle burns
bright from inside you.
Reflections glow eerily on
the cracked plaster walls.
Yellow and orange lights
flicker and dance all
around you. Making the
darkened shadows
begin to weirdly sway.
The four season porch
where you sit is quite chilly.
It smells of wet autumn
and slightly singed gourd.
The children who carved
you visit you nightly.
They light you and gaze
at you, crossed legged
on the floor.
A Halloween sentinel
of ancient tradition!
A symbol of the night!!
You are called
Jack-O-Lantern when
proudly lit in the darkness!
But just a pumpkin
in the window when your
light is blown out.
The End
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