The Writers' Circle

In the heaven like street the fresh aroma of Halloween pumpkins linger,
Laughter spews when tricker treaters pull a fake finger.
Costumes explode in the streets like leaves fill branches. 
Lights flash frenziedly in windows,
As wives give sweets and husbands rest on pillows.
Happy children rush to another door,
Through the pushing and thrusting, some even tripping on the floor. 
The October winds don't do justice on my dress,
As dirt now garnishes the untimely mess.

In every corner of the street, 
There seems to be an already arranged meet.
This is one festival rivalling Christmas,
Where everyone is being themselves even when they aren't.
All that can be seen from the murky fog are,
Ghouls
Ghosts
Movie monsters
Fishermen
Cowboys
Vampires
Ballerinas 
Zombies
Animals 
Clowns and so much more. 

I avoid the spray of confetti, which is flung in the air annually.
Swarms of other neighbourhood children appear from out of the blue,
Trying to scare the scarce passer by with a thrilled 'boo'. 
The night flies by just like the next one will too. 

On the crisp ground I nearly trip,
But a young gentleman saved my slip.
He pulls me up and his one smile makes me smile,
I guess this night is going to be magical.