Only On The 31st Of October

There are no other ways to enter.
And the exits once lit,
Seem to be cemented.
Closed as if,
Within one's fist.

And the voices inside,
Are heard.
Distant in whispers.

But no one there resides.
And I come to stand outside,
On those nights...
When the moon is full.

Just to watch the shadows pass.
And eyes glow bright,
As I stand outside...
With a fixed stare,
Who could possibly be in there,
Glaring from the upstairs window!
Piercing with a penetrating I feel,
Scanning me from head to toe.
I can not move!
Until 'it' chooses to let me go!

And the voices inside,
Are heard.
On the 31st of October!

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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