All Hallows Eve Poem by John F. McCullagh

The wind is moaning low tonight;
the sound of souls who cannot sleep.
It is said they walk the Earth tonight,
though they are buried six feet deep.
A shadow moves across a wall,
Is it a specter of one undead?
Such childish thoughts infect our minds,
giving birth to fear and dread.
On this night, when spirits walk the streets,
some are demanding tricks or treats.
Is that some clarion call from Hell?
No, just some kids who rang our bell.
Trick or treat!