The dark blue sky
that is a summer’s night,
my bare feet skim the grass.
I extend my tips towards a bundle of flourishing leaves.
I creep through a decaying fence and
crawl through dancing grass.
Watching me are the dark hollow eyes of the decomposing estate.
With shattered sides and torn screens,
I oddly feel at home.
Against my hazed judgement,
I turn away to flee.
The rotten bones call for me to stay,
in fear I run.
The dark howls like a siren,
her dependency calling
for me to stay.
I slink through the fence and into the garden,
where swirly plants shade me from devils.
A house down the street
is like a jack-o-lantern, with big orange eyes.
But like a carved pumpkin,
it seems empty.
While the crumbling structure next door is different.
This is a living pumpkin.
With strong vines.
Vines that wrap around me and pull me
to its front door.