Twas dark, and not a creature did stir,
Save for a lonely PepperMint.
Frightened, but with the heart of no cur,
He shall find his friends – no fear! Not a hint!
A thump! A cry! Was that a sigh?
He stiffens – ach! In the dark he is blind!
And is that? Oh my! Oh Chai!
They hug – to them the Fates will be kind.
Then flames! The trees are engulfed! Ahh! The sting of a burn!
They they see him! In the jaws of a monster, Cinnamon!
They yell, they roar, they fight back with sticks!
But in vain – he disappears, in not even two ticks.
And alas, Café Express, she fares no better.
Her Mets cap they see, pieces strewn, a-tatter.
Of Wintergreen they could find no hint,
Perhaps devoured, as with GingerMint?
Happy Halloween! Yes, indeed.
Thankfully – oh joy! – this is but a poem.
Of course, come tomorrow, all will be wholesome.
Or will it, indeed?
‘Twas dark, and not a creature did stir,
Not even a lonely PepperMint.
Frightened, timid, with no recourse, unsure.
Will they live? Alas - we have no hint.