Who cares if there are no crows--?

For this is the land of amber twilight

Where All Hallows Eve lies thick beneath the wooden paneling of ink block trees,

Gilded champagne saved to bleed forth in caramel taunts in the colder months

For the fledgeling children of the maple-leaf witches and the pumpkin-seed apothecaries,

Ring-around-the-rosie around the knarled oak, all of us garbed in black, candle-light spilling from inside us and out our eyes--

And mouths--

Virtual jack-o-lanterns

I just wish you had recognized me

Given me your white-waxen hand from out the folds of your cloak

Like 'old times'

Ah, but I'm back

To this land of amber twilight

Where memories of the unknown dead lay in the shades of midnight confessionals,

Tickling the stitched ears of potential scarecrows, like the rush of cellophane sweets to the blood,

Creeping on hobnailed feet, crawling on sticky-streaked fingernails to the windows of unlit homes,

Leaving the haunted dreamer to stare at the goblin breath on the glass, the invitation inscribed in steam:

'To rind-around-the-rosie around the knarled oak, garbed in black, candle-light spilling from inside and out, eyes-- and mouth'

I just wish you had recognized me

Given me your white-waxen hand from out the folds of your cloak

Like 'old times'--

But I am back

To this land of amber twilight

So--

Who cares if there are no crows?