Old Crane Window: Halloween Poem


I keep watching the old crane window, late, late at night
It’s foggy witch’s smile, bathing me with fright
Why on earth should it shine, with no light at all?
‘Tis a question that shrieks, and hollers, and calls

But the light must come from somewhere, so insists my brain
You’re a little weird and high strung, but not insane
Perhaps it’s the soul of a some weary traveler
A lonely old ghost too sad to fuss with the clatter

Oh, go to bed, old man, now you’re spooked like a loon
Bet you’ll hurry neath the covers, thinking you’re immune
To the creepies and crawlies that lurk under the bed
Waiting for something to fill you with dread

But, oh, dear, can I make it back to the bed from here?
Now I’ve done it, kissed the lips of the old woman, Scare
She’s not so bad, though, save for her creepy breath
And the way she caresses me like the icicles of death

I think maybe it’s her, making that light
Just waiting for this fool to inebriate himself with fright
To work himself into an awful Halloween dream
And make herself young again off the blood of my scream

No, you won’t win this year! I shout in chagrin.
I won’t let you hoard the fun all over again.
This year’s going to be different, just wait and see.
Your old man, Fear, still has a few tricks up his sleeve.



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