Octobers of Old

Hi everyone! I hope you’re all well. I’m sharing another poem with you today, and I hope you enjoy it.

I remember the chill of Octobers of old
When nights crept early and deep,
When turnip lanterns guttered low,
And shadows woke from sleep.

We carved with spoons excitedly,
Our fingers cold and sore,
The scent of earth and candle smoke
Hung ghostlike at the door.

We wore tall hats of cardboard cones,
Bin-liner cloaks that trailed,
And chased each other through the dark
While our paper masks soon failed.

The streets shone dark with autumn rain,
The air was sharp and still,
And every rustle, every sound,
Could spark a sudden thrill.

The dark grows still, the embers fade,
The laughter long since flown,
But every chill October night
Still feels a bit like home.

Thank you, as ever, for stopping by!

Until next time,

George

GEORGE L THOMAS