The blinding winter sun shines through the curtains,
Misguidingly luring one out to the street.
A sole wasp, confused, buzzes 'round it's treat,
Decomposing heads of Halloween's furnace.
Those heads once were orange - now black, grey and green,
Those smiles once charming, now fester with hyphae.
Those eyes once flickering, sunk into the face,
Squished up like those which have seen many places.
Alas, for many, these faces may seem
Disgusting, perhaps, only fit for the bin.
But many a face, through time's fast elapse,
Will meet the same fate, losing youthful glean.
But whether a face is withered, or rotten,
There's never a face that's lived and forgotten.
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