Once upon a midnight dreary, Burt awoke, confused but cheery,
While he'd slept (he called it napping), suddenly there came a tapping!
Was there someone gently rapping? Rapping at his own backdoor?
Only this, and nothing more.
He was absolutely sober, that night in late October, when he ventured to that door.
Deep into the darkness peering, wondering just what he was fearing,
to still the beating of his metaphorical heart, he stood repeating . . .
"Ok, who's there? What do you want? Do you know what time it is?
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Flinging open the kitty door, in there stepped a stately Raven, from the days of ancient yore.
Then this strange bird beguiling got Burt's tired face to smiling, by the bossy continence he wore.
There Burt stood, engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
until he resorted to addressing, what this creature had in store.
Who are you, grim and skeletal raven, wandering from the Winnebago shore?
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
What a strange name, poor Burt exclaimed. We'll need some tea, this is all too insane,
and with those words it immediately came. The Mad Hatter, as always, was ready to pour.
Quoth the Raven, "No offence Burt, but I think tea at midnight is kind of a snore."
Soon again Burt heard a tapping somewhat louder than before,
Let me see then who it is, who is tapping at my door!
Quoth the Raven, "It's only Ms. Ivy, that you adore!"
Burt threw open the menacing door, "Dearest Ivy, your forgiveness I do implore.
All this crazy tapping and rapping has rattled to me to my very core!
Do come in, I have often offered refreshments to visitors entreating entrance before."
Quoth the Raven, "there's always room for more!"
A quaint and curious blend of forgotten teas from ancient world's ends,
were quickly steeped for Burt's new friend and as the Hatter began to pour,
Quoth the Raven, ". . . alright, now I'm really, really bored."
Fresh tea was brought for Ms. Ivy along with some cake.
Though she took just a little, as it was getting quite late,
she enjoyed the company, there's no mistake about that.
Quoth the Raven, "Hey, where did you get your hat?"
They shared the cake in silence unbroken, and the stillness gave no token
yet the only words there spoken was the whispered, "have some more?"
Quoth the Raven, "Watch your step, I'm afraid I was sick on the floor."
Mad Hatter's Bella Notte serenade capped the evening off right,
though it's not part of Halloween lore, it fit in perfectly that night.
The party was spooky, but without any gore because after all that's what I was aiming for.
As for the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on the table, waiting to implore . . .
Quoth the Raven, More, more, more!
Thank you for visiting!
My thanks to Edgar Allan Poe and apologies to his fans.
Many thanks to the fabulous Vanessa at A Fanciful Twist for hosting this fun event!