Once upon a midnight dreary, as we bounced haunted and beery,
talking loudly and spouting forgotten lore
While we mingled hanging, there suddenly came a clanging,
the sound of banging, ganging and whanging inside the Sanctuary door.
Tis time for Halloween games, I muttered.
Games, dancing and so much more.
Though still distinctly, unwillingly sober, I love the end of October
when my cup runneth over with ghosts, goblins and gore.
Eagerly I wished, so plainly, to strut my costume so vainly
that I sashayed rather insanely – insanely for the Sanctuary door.

For the pink and squeaky rectangle we call the Sanctuary door.

Holding games, the bang and so much more.

And the woolen, soft rustling of each tannish curtain thrilled me —
Filled me with fantastic passion not felt before.

So now to still my heart from beating, I entered repeating,
“Tis some visitor entreating entrance for game bang through the Sanctuary door.”

Some welcome visitor entreating entrance for game bang through the Sanctuary door.

Saying, “I am here for the games, the bang and so much more.”