On Halloween Eve I attended a feast Where friends were disguised as brilliant beasts Amid all the rags of black, grey, and plum My red dress blotted the floor with red rum I was the Queen of Hearts for one night Flattered by men who blushed at my sight I was a caricature of women who rage I was a damsel from the Victorian age Though I was proposed to by all the males I rejected them at the swish of my scarlet red nails There was one man, in the corner of the room Who caused my intrigue to tenderly bloom He was not a clown, a cowboy, or an ape He was a skeleton in a flowing black cape This sort of blasphemy I've never seen To dress as the Reaper for Halloween He transformed a holiday of fun and fear Into a reminder that death is too near He left to the garden, and I followed and whined And told him his costume was way out of line He turned his head and I shuddered at his face Which was a skeletal, bleached disgrace "Sir, I demand you unmask your brow!