Poetry: Pumpkin

This came to me while I was backing some seeds from an Acorn Squash which is, in fact, a type of pumpkin.

Photo by Kelsie Cabeceiras on Pexels.com


You chose me from a lonely field

–Though others had much more to yield.

What hands have taken

What hands will give

–a new life somewhere, I hope to live.

Like the rising fog, I wait

Trust placed high in the hands of fate.

Knife cuts in, now open wide

Too little too late, no time to hide.

Hands enter in, an awkward squish

All I had, placed on a forlorn dish.

Surrender cut into a smile,

Though outward light may shine a while.

Hallow never felt serene;

Emptiness hides on Halloween.

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