Halloween is over.
The grey trees
have shed every leaf.
Now there are branches, alone,
scratching at the sky.
They scatter the moonlight
and make it seem empty, colder.
Defrocked by winter,
they bare their secrets
to the wind and sun.
The grey trees
have shed every leaf.
Now there are branches, alone,
scratching at the sky.
They scatter the moonlight
and make it seem empty, colder.
Defrocked by winter,
they bare their secrets
to the wind and sun.