I shiver in the churchyard on Halloween.

I have seen

No ghosts, just the open church door.

I am sure

There is nothing there to scare me,

Just ancient bones

Decaying under cold old stones.

It is said

The dead are forever dead.

Yet, when I leave the graves behind

I find the same mundane

Old suburban street, trodden by living feet,

Where quivering and shivering cease.