Through moral mist we’ve claimed our pleasure’s good.
On Halloween the candy was a treat.
The apple from the midnight witch was sweet.
We counted every coin. Our fevers could
continue pleasure, rightly ours. Or, should
we punish doing tricks out in the street,
manipulating weaker ones we meet?
Our unknown sin was doing what we would.
This is the final stanza for Linda Kruschke’s month of octaves using Paint Chip words. I used “mist” and “midnight” as the prompt words. This is also written for Eugenia’s Thursday Prompt where the theme is Halloween.