Thursday, October 31, 2013

All Hallows




The dead do walk through fields of night,
in scattered, bony tread,
devouring meals they cannot eat,
reminding life of death.

In spectral shapes they haunt the edge,
of this material world,
and speak with those of open heart,
whose minds have not been closed.

4 comments:

  1. Very haunting! Good phrasing of "scattered, bony tread"!

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  2. Haunting, well written, perfect for Halloween! Thank you for visiting my blog :)

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  3. very true.... I feel them often & find it rather comforting

    I like your poem

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  4. Love this, Roslyn. My husband says he can feel their presence as well.

    Pamela

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