Halloween 1992
Here they come beating a path to my door,
In twos and threes, and fours or more,
Floating, bloating, and gloating with “Goshes!”
Arms flopping, feet stomping in ghoulish galoshes.
I open the door -- look out at the street.
Oops, those furtive urchins are down by my feet.
“Is it that time again?” I ask, beating a hasty retreat,
But they ambush me with “Trick or Treat!”
My, you’re a cute rumpled dumpling,” I mumble
And stick out a tray of food for fast fumbling.
“Take two, my little Petite Piece of Pasta.
At the Mirabeau or Canlis these morsels would cost ya.”
Yes, little jesters, keep gesturing and pestering.
Keep those digestive juices just festering.
Halloween beans and licorice cookies,
I’ve reams of rollicking recipes, rookies.
Yes, it takes a staunch stomach and that’s no joke.
This beast of a feast isn’t for finicky folk.
So eat spinach and carrots until the next time
When I greet you again with more rare food and rhyme.
Witchie (Vicki) Westberg
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