“Frankenstein‘s ice cream truck”

Down the lane on a misty night,  
With lightning flickering, pale and bright,  
Rolls a truck both green and grand,  
With bolts and rivets, slightly unplanned.

A monstrous grin—'tis Frankenstein,  
Serving sundaes in messy design!  
His stitches crinkle with every scoff,  
As he scoops the "Choco-Scary Goff."

The music box twangs a spooky tune,  
Underneath the watchful moon.  
Children gather (none too bold)  
For cones of “Ghoulberry” and “Marshmallow Mold.”

He lumbers out with every shake  
Of waffle cones and “Scream-Filled Cake.”  
His apron’s patched, his cap askew,  
But, oh! His fudge is graveyard goo!

Vanilla “Voltage,” Mint “Moonstone,”  
Pistachio “Zombie,” all his own.  
His freezer hums, cauldrons churn,  
As townsfolk wait their chilling turn.

Yet gentle is this frightful chef,  
Despite a neck bolt on his left.  
“Enjoy!” he rumbles, soft and warm—  
No need, tonight, for fear or harm.

So when dusk falls on your street,  
And monster melodies fill the heat,  
Look for the headlights, green and bright,  
And taste the sweets of the stormy night!

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