The Magic of the Night
Even magic doesn’t negate Murphy’s Law.
Resounding sounds- Trick-r-Treat.
Masqueraders in the street.
Dancing. Singing. Some were fleet.
Some holding hands of tiny feet.
Ghosts and goblins galore
Harry Potters, mighty Thor
Self-created and from store
Donned my porch steps wanting more.
Soon my cupboards were found bare.
There was nothing left to spare.
When the last small child, so fair
Stood at my door; a snow white hare.
Nothing remains. What do I do?
A rattled brain. My thoughts were few.
But then I spied, on sofa blue.
A small stuffed toy. A little ewe.
‘Twas all I had. This last small gift.
Did bring my spirits quite a lift.
I conjured. Cast a spell so swift.
It baa’d. It mewed. It even sniffed.
The ewe, it twisted in the air
Landing on ‘fours’, without a care.
And off it went, quite on a tear.
Destination: We don’t know where.
Written for ‘Picture This’ @ FanStory.