The day has eyes. The night has ears;
the monster within, unbidden tears.
Think you’re escaping,
run into yourself, bang;
longest way round, shortest way home.

T’was the night before All Souls
dark and cold and dreary.
Full, dark, black, night.
For lettered and for unlettered alike.

Fear the roaring of the skies,
tremble at the dying of the light;
fear seeps from  miasmic ground
where wind and rain alight.

Scurry through the lanes
growling in the air.
Vowed she’d be good, live plain,
care.

Annie dared not turn around,
dared not breathe too loud,
missed her footfall, heard the shriek
of shroud.

Stumble past the graveyard
bolt of lightning splits the tree, sends her
fleeing wildly. Fearing goblin, ghost, and me.
The devil's on the spree.

In the morning, her long hair white
as white can be… and she… and she…
just twenty-three.