The Witching Hour

Midnight strikes, the clock hands creep,

The world awakens from its sleep.

The Witching Hour has begun,

A time of fear, a time of fun.

The graveyard hums with spectral tunes,

As ghosts arise beneath the moon.

Their hollow eyes and tattered shrouds,

Drift silently through misty clouds.

The witches brew their bubbling pot,

With toads and roots and things forgot.

They chant aloud in ancient tongue,

Their eerie spell has just begun.

The bats take flight, their wings outspread,

Like shadows circling overhead.

The owls hoot low, their call profound,

A haunting song that chills the ground.

Jack-o'-lanterns flicker bright,

Their grins aglow with wicked light.

They guard the porches, line the street,

While children scurry on quick feet.

Doors swing open, candy spills,

The air alive with playful thrills.

But deeper still, where shadows stay,

The darker creatures come to play.

The werewolves howl, the vampires creep,

The restless spirits never sleep.

And in the woods, a figure stands,

A glowing lantern in its hands.

It beckons forth, its voice unclear,

A murmured call that chills the ear.

“Come closer now, don’t be afraid…”

But step too near, and you’re betrayed.

For Halloween is not just games,

It’s filled with tricks and fiery flames.

A night where dark and light collide,

Where brave and foolish hearts abide.

So tread with care, and mind the lore,

For Halloween is so much more.

It’s magic, mystery, fear, and delight—

A dance of shadows through the night.