The Invisible

The children walk about with parents and masks,
Excited and happy for a night of delight.
Most parents or siblings see it as a task,
Taking their children out on this night of fright.

There are some parents that stay in for the fun,
And children as well that don't go place to place.
But one child in particular walks alone, with a gun,
Yellow stopper at the end, black mask on his face.

He walks past the houses, looking at each.
He holds no bag, or bucket, or pillowcase,
But he looks for something just out of reach,
and continues onward in unhaltered haste.

Children pay him no notice, out of mind, out of sight,
Parents pay him no heed, waiting to get home.
He moves up to a house, stops under a light,
And feels at the moment that he is alone.

The house is not lit, the decorations are down.
He moves up to the window, and sees inside,
A couple staring, not moving, no smile or frown,
Into a fireplace, the flames dancing, as shadows hide.

He moves up to the door, he hears crying now.
He came back, he's here, it will be okay tonight.
His hand passes through the bell, he wonders how
He can show them there's hope, there's light.

He knows he must leave, his time is now over.
The sun must come up and begin a new day.
The darkness is fading, as his footprints in clover,
There is nothing he now could say.

Most windows are dark, people now sleeping.
But one window parts, causing birds to take flight.
They look to the light, their faces now seeking,
They stop out the door, and see the new light.

The morning sun comes up on a empty street,
Candy strewn about, decorations still lit.
A toy gun lies in a bush, near their feet.
The little rubber stopper has broken a bit.