The withered crone sat on her stone

Of riven granite grey

And through her crystal ball did see

The thrall of a humanity

All Saints and Sinners too

Just like me and you

Whose moans and groans belie

Perfection promised; yet to come

When all may be said and done

On judgement day.


Us all went to Halloween Fair

But when we arrived nobody was there

To care for Us - poor souls -

The hearts and minds of which wander

Through a darkness of discontent

That causes us to lament the years gone by

In which we could have tried

To reach perfection like All Saints

And Sinners too.