The Things We See

Empty street
leaves scraping
stones on the walk
of the small
single house
alone on the dead end
road
seemingly
floating on the
terrace
street lamps flicker
with sad little
shudders
and darkness creeping all around
the safety net
of summer
has gone with the geese
to the south
as the frost
layers the earth
shaking the green
out of everything
moving life
to underground
as the temperature
falls
with the leaves
to the ground
under my feet
as I stand
dressed in my
costume
barely shivering
in the wind
of this
all hallows' eve
and trembling more
with the fear
of the light
that shakes
the dark away
but wanes
with the strength
of the night
pressing down
on its spark
as I stare
into the windows
all crusty with dust
and age
into the room
of the little house
that holds the grandfather clock
I remember its toll
from so long ago
it rings in my ears now
as the time
passes
the bell chimes
three times
and the moon does stand still
the moment
I waited for is here
the street lamp
dies
its light
burning out
as the screeches of the things we
see go round
and round my
head
I close my eyes
and listen in
to my death
as it flies
unseen
above me
in the light
of
the moon.