Ha-Llo-Ween
Ha-llo-ween
In the dead of the night witches fly
On their broomsticks across silken skies
There they practice their art without fear
On this one frightful night of the year.
Trick or treat is the cry of the young
As they hover round each hearth and home
Unaware of the dangers they’d meet
As they knock on the doors down their street
Dressed as zombies or demons or ghosts
Grisly faces look totally gross
With ‘terror’ they scream as they play
On the eve of that sinister day
With their cauldrons of sweets they return
Safely home without cause for concern
As on All Hallows eve when that clock strikes thirteen
The undead then reclaim Halloween.
Heather Buxton 2014
Copyright © Heather Buxton | Year Posted 2014
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