Park Slope
by Danielle Cameron
Two eyes stare intensely as you pass,
Small flames flickering within their gaze,
Delicately dancing around melting wax,
Their eyes--hollow portals into the unknown,
Bathed in a spectral shimmer, illuminating its face,
Crooked smiles in the darkness, a cackle in baritone.
The ghostly orbs of orange aglow--
Oh, the glorious pumpkins of Park Slope,
Guardians of the night in Gotham’s brownstone gardens
In a place darkened by towers of steel and stone,
These lanterns--
Carved with the precision of the artist’s knife,
Autumnal embers glow as the night comes to life.
A Hallowe’en dream--a beautiful fright,
Little monsters and ghouls beneath twilight’s shade,
A stoop-swept sundown that enchants and delights,
Under the canopy of tree-lined streets where shadows play,
The old-growth roots wrapping around trunks of great height,
Winds whisper through deserted branches--empty and decay
The ghostly orbs of orange aglow--
Oh, the glorious pumpkins of Park Slope,
Guardians of the night in Gotham’s brownstone gardens
In a place darkened by towers of steel and stone,
These lanterns--
Carved with the precision of the artist’s knife,
Autumnal embers glow as the night comes to life.
Oh, the glorious stoops of Park Slope!
Small flames flickering within their gaze,
Delicately dancing around melting wax,
Their eyes--hollow portals into the unknown,
Bathed in a spectral shimmer, illuminating its face,
Crooked smiles in the darkness, a cackle in baritone.
The ghostly orbs of orange aglow--
Oh, the glorious pumpkins of Park Slope,
Guardians of the night in Gotham’s brownstone gardens
In a place darkened by towers of steel and stone,
These lanterns--
Carved with the precision of the artist’s knife,
Autumnal embers glow as the night comes to life.
A Hallowe’en dream--a beautiful fright,
Little monsters and ghouls beneath twilight’s shade,
A stoop-swept sundown that enchants and delights,
Under the canopy of tree-lined streets where shadows play,
The old-growth roots wrapping around trunks of great height,
Winds whisper through deserted branches--empty and decay
The ghostly orbs of orange aglow--
Oh, the glorious pumpkins of Park Slope,
Guardians of the night in Gotham’s brownstone gardens
In a place darkened by towers of steel and stone,
These lanterns--
Carved with the precision of the artist’s knife,
Autumnal embers glow as the night comes to life.
Oh, the glorious stoops of Park Slope!
Danielle Cameron was born in New Brunswick (Canada) and currently resides in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She’s an avid collector of vintage books, Art Deco curiosities, and is fond of all things spooky. She holds bachelor’s degrees in human rights and journalism and a Master of Political Science. During her studies, she learned research methods and the craft of storytelling. Her passion for writing bloomed when she discovered how much she loves classic literature and poetry from the Romantic era.