'Twas the Eve of All Saints

'Twas the Eve of All Saints
and here in my den
I settled by the fire
with journal and pen.

My tea, sweet with honey,
my wrap, soft as lamb,
my toes, nice and toasty,
my rolls, full of jam.

When what to my
oblivious ears did I hear?
A tap on the window,
a voice filled with cheer.

Then to my horror
my door opened wide
as seven ghostly faces
peeked eagerly inside.

I dashed from my chair,
dove under the bed,
but the faces flew in
right over my head.

Finally one spoke,
"We know that it's late,
but I am Saint Peter
of the Heavenly Gate."

"Tomorrow we feast,
tonight, we all roam.
We've come to visit
your Halloween home."

"Saint Chris of Travels,
Michael of Sword,
Paul the Apostle,
writer of Word."

"Francis of Assisi,
Daniel of Den,
Andrew of Twelve,
fishers of men."

They sailed up the wall,
they soared down the stair,
they pummeled the pillows,
then sat in my chair!

Soon Peter chuckled,
then a whistle he blew.
"Time to roam onward!"
Out the doorway they flew.

I heard him exclaim
as I recovered from fright,
"Happy Eve of All Saints,
and to all a Good Night!"

***