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The clock strikes 12 and the spirits fly
Out from their graves and into the sky
I look out of my window and think I see
A monster sitting in the tree
It has dagger-like teeth and a pumpkin-shaped head
Sharp looking nails and eyes that are red
It wears a ragged shirt full of holes and tears
And shaggy trousers made from human hairs
I shout for my mum, I shout for my dad
I look out again, it’s gone and I’m glad
I hear heavy footsteps on the landing floor
Then the handle slowly turns on my bedroom door
But it is not my dad, it is Pumpkin Head!
So I scream, as I know that I shall soon be dead
Then I hear my dad laugh as he removes his disguise
And I say to him, ‘Dad . . . what a nasty surprise!’

by Aimee Lucking (9)

Competition - Poetry Detectives

Copyright remains with the author.