I wrote this poem a decade ago following a magical Halloween evening with my daughter in which we walked through the Glebe, an Ottawa neighbourhood located on the (much) more expensive side of the (Queensway) tracks.
Mostly because Sarah was absolutely beautiful and entirely electric, and partly because the night was unseasonably warm, we had so much candy thrown our way we could barely hang onto it all. (I was in potato chip heaven.)
I have never been much of a poet, but Sarah was always completely moved by anything I wrote. (“I love the rhyming ones Mum.”) I am solemnly grateful now, these ten years later, that I penned this simple poem (ironic in a way that only Sarah and I and our family would understand) for her in memory of one of the myriad magical times we shared together.
Along the boulevard they walk
down through the years entwined,
The lamp-lit amber leaves of fall
With starry night, combined.
And all around incadent blend
Of whoops and shrieks and yells,
Where fairy queens and gypsy kings
Enraptured tales foretell.
~
Along the boulevard their hearts
In merry tandem, one;
Enchanted by the children who
Brush past them, as they run
Called up to stately mansions where
The safe and sure reside:
Untroubled hearts and sterling souls ‑‑
What sins or pain to hide?
~
Along the boulevard, their words
Unspoken; arm in arm.
Swept up the leaves and mirthful sounds
Light holy, mystic charm.
Clatter of the children standing
Out against the forms
Of stately mansions; quiet pride,
Small smiles, free from harm.
~
Beyond the boulevard they walk
Among the costumed crowd,
And usher out the warmth of night;
The hallowed, safe with God.
