A rooftop of asphalt shingles,
A chimney of worn antique bricks,
Children’s goose-bumped skin tingles,
As they approach for treats or tricks.


The porch is covered by wild vine,
Rickety floor slats, soft with rot.
Victorian house by design,
Untended grass covers the lot.


Youngsters gather at the front door,
Their bags of goodies close at hand.
Undisturbed cobwebs they ignore,
In fact, one’s dressed as Spiderman.


Nobody will answer the bell,
Not while sunlight still streaks the sky.
For the children, it’s just as well -
In the cellar vampires lie.