Friday, October 29, 2010

The Arrival / Leave

(to The Load Out/Stay by Jackson Browne)

Now the sweets
Are all empty
See the autos drive away
Pack kids up,
Start leavin’ town

Some at dusk will come
And their eyes will feast
Looking for their cinnamon treats
Some will come back for another round

Tonight the costumes were so fine
The tiny tots did shine
And when they showed up at my door,
They made a show.

The kids were cool,
And I can hear their sounds
Of little tricks
Of little treats
And that’s a sound that makes me glow.

“Now save your sister some,”
And “That’s my champ!”
and see ‘em rushin’ up
the children with their bags
Cause when it comes to treating me
You know you kids are the champs.

But when that last Mars bar’s been snatched away
I wish for more to give away
I was so sure I had enough for my bowl
Don’t want no trick from some bandito.

But they say
“Why the fuss?
And why make it a show?”
I wanna night of fright
And see the costumes of Waldo

And the joy,
Won’t outgrow
See Cinderella’s dressed with a bow
And cartoon kids on display

You hear spooky sounds
From the gals and ghouls
And mimic those older aged
There’s the door bell ring
And I hear those shouts
And see October’s silly game

Now we got Spidey and Princess on the porch
Blood and Guts
We got poets in berets,
Space cadets named Mario
I see faces green and Wolverines
And hungry witches, not so mean
I see the ones inspired from a video

I see moms and dads by the ones they love
And their lights show the way
And they bide their time while little sport
Gets the goods that help teeth decay

Wee ones, you’ve got the get-ups
That we love to view
You can’t wait for the date
The day you put on suits
It’s your night,
Treat us right
We know, that you look a sight

But when that porch light’s off
You’re leaving town
I’m gonna pass out on my couch.

Though we have seen you
At your best
We old folk need our
Beauty rest.

Children leave,
Tell your parents “No longer.”
We want to sleep,
Just a little bit longer.

All you children must be tired
And your parents are tired
We enjoyed your cool attire
I’m afraid we must retire
And sadly
Sweets all gone.

Copyright 2010 Warren Baker

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