Halloween

A full moon hung high,
In the foreboding Halloween night,
While witches on brooms cackle and fly,
Travelling their star-strewn flight.

The witches attend a party at dawn,
(A better time for the undead)
And because any of the living shall be gone,
The dead will dance instead.

While zombies do the ‘Monster Mash’,
And ghosts cause a fuss,
The eyes of a witch glow with a flash;
The malevolent spirits vanish: an obvious plus.

There was a sudden haste, a well practiced move:
The hunt of humans had begun,
While all supernaturals were determined to prove,
That each other race could be outdone.

The ‘festivities’ may be over,
The faeries may be dormant once more,
But in their dancing glade of clover,
The ghosts lie waiting by the dimensional door.