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.