pumpkin
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Driving by the bar, we looked out the window.
Three discarded pumpkins bobbed in the stream.
I looked at my brother--five weeks after Halloween.
You are the last pumkin.
Left bruised and misshapen,
Nobody wants you.
So you simply sit there,
Watching even the most desperate of people
Give you a look of disgust,
And walk on by.
I ate a piece of pumpkin pie
With whipping cream piled high
And, finding I was hungry still,
Took the pan and had my fill.
Hope was peeling an onion
Her mind began to drift
To a town she hadn’t seen quite awhile
Where the leaves are changing
and the air is crisp
where her sister’s carving a jack-o-lantern
I went to the fair
Hoping to make a find.
Then I spotted a stand.
It was one of a kind.
All kinds of good pies
Were setting right there.
Could I choose from them all?
