A Fall Poem

 An orange moon rises this hallows eve,
The town’s school teacher, the stories she’ll weave,
Stories so dark the children can’t believe,
They think of the treats they will soon receive,
The moon and the trees cast ghostly shadows,
The moans from the graveyard a place so hallowed,
The creaks and the groans coming from the gallows,
The looming figures are things foreshadowed,
The leaves twirl and crinkle under their feet,
The noises make the children white as a sheet,
Sounds of screaming make the children retreat,
The children run home their parents they’ll greet,
Various demons they could not defeat,
They’ll look out the window to see a man in the street.