The Dark.

A poem written in class after being shown a "spooky" picture.

Strange is my sight in the dark
staggering, wandering through what I'd hope was a park. 
Strange fog passes in great drifts,
churning lazily as it shifts. 

Above the man on the moon smirks,
As wind spitefully twists and jerks.
Tree limbs reach to snare 
as quietly the pumpkin face glares.

Author's Note

I'd like constructive criticism as well as general thoughts. Since I'd like to get better at poetry. Thank you for reading and have a great day!