Hello, my lovely. It is me again. Thought I had left ye. Now, would I do that? Such a lovely neck...mind if I take a bite?

Hallowe'en

This is the night when witches fly

On their whizzing broomsticks through the wintery sky;

Steering up the pathway where the stars are strewn,

They stretch skinny fingers to the waking moon.

�

This is the night when old wives tell

Strange and creepy stories, tales of charm and spell;

Peering at the pictures flaming in the fire

They wait for whispers from a ghostly choir.

�

This is the night when angels go

In and out the houses, winging o'er the snow;

Clearing out the demons from the countryside

They make it new and ready for Christmastide.

Leonard Clark

�

1998

1999