Witches’ lanterns,
cheeky spiritely Imps
and swirls of pungent gas,
nope not the flatulant kind
that comes from behind,
but pumpkin pies
and glowing red eyes
have much to answer for
if questions you need to find.
And you want my opinion
don’t you think?
For I am three thousand years old;
I knew Cleo and Julius
even before he Ceased-her,
and though out of sight, they heard
my even steadier purr.
I’ve lived through times
as devlish as Halloween,
grown darker through the centuries
yet never so black as out of sight,
for I’m the black cat
whose path you shouldn’t cross
or events might be to your cost.
I could well be an egytian curse
kept alive through ancient scrolls
or cauldrons stirred by ugly trolls,
but this I owe to my longevity
I never do the trick or treating
and my sanity I try to keep,
to be honest, I’d rather curl and sleep.
