Poem – December First

Empty pumpkins, evil pumpkins

Fill the windows with special somethings

Filthy fingers, the skin is coming

Peeled and played like cookie dumplings

Following trails of the pale huntsman

To catch the cherry stolen by the truncheon

Empty pumpkins, evil pumpkins

Sobbing, soaking, sulking, sucking

Buy them young and fresh then hollow them out

Give them mouths that cannot scream or shout

Draw a smile and never a pout

Sad pumpkins, empty pumpkins, December 1st pumpkins

In the garbage, withered, forgotten nothings

At least they were once something

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