Two years ago, my costume wardrobe was huge. I still have a few boxes up in the attic of the garage, but for some reason, when I’m called upon to locate a costume or find one for myself, I come up empty. This poem sort of reveals the dilemma of a retired costumer.
Clothes for a pirate, a sword and hat too –
Some mermaids, a puppy, a high button shoe –
A cowboy, a jail bird, and Winnie the Pooh.
Hair of all sorts even red, orange and blue –
Moustaches and sideburns, there’s beards in there too.
The choices are many so what should I do?
I could dress up like Elvis or old Captain Hook,
I might even try something else from a book.
There’s Buffalo Bill, Twiddle Dum, Tweedle Dee,
White Rabbit, Mad Hatter – oh what shall I be?!
My mind is just spinning. I can’t get a grip.
It might be much better if I just took a trip.
Decisions – decisions! It’s hard to decide.
Batman or Robin – Dr. Jekyll or Hyde.
I’d be a great Scarecrow or Tin Man, it’s true.
A Cowardly Lion would be all right too.
Why is it so hard to make up my mind?
With all the great choices, there should be one find.
The reason is simple I’ll give you a clue.
All of the costumes begin at size two.
They don’t go beyond small, medium or large.
And I’m pretty close to the size of a barge.
I’m glad Halloween only comes once a year.
I have nothing to wear. Think I’ll go shed a tear.