In autumn's chill, the leaves of sorrow fall, No laughter echoes through the hallway's call. Beneath the bench, we place new blooms in grace, While haunted memories find their endless space. The witches pass, mere shadows in our view, And ghosts march on with no regard anew. The children's laughter, faint as whispers, plays, Yet cannot mend the gap these dulcet days. The pumpkin's grin is now a hollow stare, Its candle dims without your guiding flare. No tricks, no treats, just silence in the night, For you, dear son, our everlasting light. With every breath, a prayer, a whispered name, A candle flickers in the love's old flame. Though heartache's weight anchors us deep and true, In every beat, we hold a piece of you.