Dark and blustery cold,
no snow here now but south of here,
Memory fragments come to me,
images of hallowe'ens of before.
Costumes, alternate persona's,
and the dreaded
We could make a costume out of anything,
a costume comes off the shelf.
I remember being a hobo
or a witch with an old crinkly black dress
that sat in a box in the attic.
Was it Fanny's mourning dress?
Though I know that tomorrow it will all seem different,
today we feel the past like no tomorrow,