Remonstrances sound in the pale evening gloom
One that is feared, a midnight rose' bloom.
Concealed by a thick, emerging wall
Cries never heard, dying off at her call.

Peering round the tombstone tree,
I see leaves swaying in the ominous breeze.
A foretelling of an unknown story
That has come to end, Grimm's morning glory.

Peeling off the gigantic red brick house,
Are cement and paint in cold dry blood.
Parting gazes deceive the spider
As the web tears apart for the cunning outsider.

Flickering and broken lamps unfixed
They cast light on the wicked, devouring mix
Of witches and grumps, different and alike
Who ruin our lives
And rip even knives.

A considerable vacation it must be
To head in and out, oh how much fun and glee!
But horror tales come undone only in the fall
When the glimmer wears off
And ink splatters the prison wall.