Dark Toasty

The Skies they were ashen and sober

The leaves they were crisped and sere

The leaves they were withering and sere

It was night in the lonesome October

Of my most immemorial year...

--Edgar Allan Poe--

Outside the wind is howling through the trees

And the bright eye of the moon casts fingerbone shadows

Across your face as you gaze out the window

The darkness flicker

The candles you've lit to keep away

An unseen ghost of a draft

Causing them to tremble and sputter


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