Friday, October 31, 2008


Our gap-toothed pumpkin face is carved and lit,
A witches' squadron rides our windowpane,
As vampires, devils, ghouls, in counterfeit,
Seek treats or trickery at our door again.
My children hold me tightly by the hand,
As I escort their Halloween debut;
They shrink from every boisterous beggars' band
Because they fear the trumpery is true.
So I explain and soothe and hold them close
And show them all is clever-made deceit:
Each Frankenstein, a playmate grandiose;
Each ghost, a neighbor child wound in a sheet.
But yet a sound, a touch, a shadow--hark!
I glance behind my shoulder in the dark.

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