the elder of late October
wears robes of silver thistle leaves
with a serpentine gourd vine
tied round his bony waist
he's crowned with bare branches
that shade his long locks
of crimson amaranthine hair
his skin is course and crackled bark
of which lichens are akin to
his dark vacant eyes are chasms
one can fall into if not careful
while his grin is as sharp
as the first frosts in the
presence of the dawn
he carries with him all the fruits
that have fallen, forgotten and not foraged
these are his orphaned children
he comes to collect each year
to carry them safely into the long night of the year
but parents be wary to not leave
your own children under the arms
of a tree with showering leaves
or else along with the discarded fruit
they too will be carried off
by the elder of late October
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