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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.

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