by Neeshal G., 15
Every time October rolls around,
I feel the familiar scent of fall—
The cool winds blowing outside,
Neighbor’s houses turning
Into haunted houses,
The strong, bitter odor that
Bursts out of a pumpkin
When you carve it open,
The stretchy silk of the fake cobwebs
You wrap around your yard—
Every scent, every touch,
Every new haunted house
Brings back the joy of being a kid,
Ready to go out at night again
On the 31st of October.
Downingtown, Pennsylvania
Bridge Ink 