The mist hangs low
The air falls damp
Around the lamp
On midnight street
Where tiptoe feet
And black cats go
The mist hangs low.
The shadows loom
As on the broom
Strange shapes appear
And disappear
And green eyes glow
The mist hangs low.
Fire sticks crackle
Voices cackle
As in the night
The bats take flight.
But never tell them what you know-
Don’t say a word
Of what you heard.
Catch your breath
-(or catch your death)
When the mist hangs low.
currently reading poems by Leah Bodine Drake.
Recommended for spooky halloween reading