by Paul McFarland
The days are growing shorter,
And the air is crisp and clean.
The costumes in the attic
All come out. It’s Halloween.
The candy sales are brisk.
Store owners rub their hands with glee.
The dentists will be busy
In a few months. Wait and see.
The kids put down their video games
To traipse the busy streets,
Dressed up in wild disguises
All in search of trick or treats.
And there’ll be pumpkins staring at you
Through the chilly night.
Their eyes and nose and smile or frown
Lit up by candle light.
And when those costumed urchins
Finish up this yearly task
And carry home their diabetic
Bounty and unmask,
They’ll sit around a cozy fire
As some adult unveils
The scary ghosts and goblins
In those spooky fireside tales.
And when those hyper children
Come down from their sugar highs,
And make their way upstairs to bed
As they all fantasize,
They wonder, when they’re sleeping,
Will they hear the banshee screams,
Or will that headless horseman
Be there riding through their dreams.