My Response to Today’s image Prompt , “Lunar Wind” by Alex Andreev
what will become of me?
Will I have stories to tell? A house to haunt?
When the clock strikes midnight on Halloween
and everyone else takes their masks off and casts their
death shrouds back into plastic tote boxes marked ” holiday stuff”
what am I supposed to do?
Where am I supposed to go?
My face is set in stone and my shrouds have grown into my bones
What will become of me, where will I sleep