It’s 11:30 p.m. on October 31st
In the dead quiet of the street,
There lies perfectly lined up suburban houses
Craftily decorated with synthetic spider webs
and stock-still animatronics.
Lights are off and candy is hiding safely in drawers,
Children hiding safely under their covers
The spirit subsides, yielding fatigue
Their mellow breaths, heart rate slowing
They’re the lucky ones.
They’ll wake up tomorrow and relish in the sweet November chill
Swap candy corn for cornucopias
The others aren’t so fortunate.
It’s precisely at this time at night
Where these specters get to enjoy the only fun they have all year
Yes, this time of the night is especially exciting for those lost ones
They rally under the moon right until the last waning seconds of the night
Yelping and screaming in euphoria, bounding up and down their captured home
On a mission, scraping underneath the dirtiest recesses and corners
To find any leftovers
Hungry, desperate, enraptured
Hurry, hurry, they haven’t got much time
The forgotten ones, the ones who got lost,
The ones whose efforts were futile
And the ones who weren’t smart enough to know
That Halloween is theirs, after all.
So next time you’re safe and sound inside
The warmth of the house overwhelming the chaos of the night
Just know that in the morning, they will be gone
And you can enjoy all the pleasures of the new holiday
But they will be stronger, bigger
Come next year,
You may not be so lucky.