Old Hallows Eve

I hate these barren Halloweens

When I’ve no children in my life.

No one who needs me to transform a sweatsuit

Into a cat, or a witch, or a dog;

No one for whom to sneak out of work

In order to watch a parade;

No one with Clark bars to steal,

With pumpkins to carve,

With laughter to share.

I’m saddened no little goblins

Will treat me with the threat of tricks,

And I know that if I see a Grim Reaper knocking at the door

I am to keep it closed, since it won’t be a costumed child.

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