October

The melancholy with all their follies

Pack up their vials, velvets and voodoo

Strap on their boots and escape as kooks

Walking, wandering and weeping

All the way down to that fated strange town

October

Passing the gate where the fears dissipate 

Taking in the beauty for it was boundless and bubbly

Sky here as orange as the pumpkins foraged

Where the plenty and plump people

Are just as kind as the town is hard to find

The yellow sun lowering as the start of bellowing music

All along the sturdy, strong shops

Teeming with life now that it’s night 

Sounds and smells, sights and scales

All as sweet as the food there is to eat

Breads and bacon, borscht and brews

Blackstone is what makes every home

For it is abundant, both adored and adorned

Nothing that stands is done underhand

Even the grass, now glittering and glowing

Reflects the stained glass and the beauty it has

Landing loudly and largely 

Sparking inspiration alongside elation 

Now you traveler, one of the few

Despite being tired, timid and torn

Can now feast since there are no beasts 

This is the time-tested truth

As in this town of October they have found

No deceptions and distempered duplicities

 Are told lest they turn dead cold