Pumpkin Pulp
Pumpkin Pulp a hunger real.
Toothless meal a vomit fill.
Rumpy flesh to hold the meal.
Tasty strands of flavour seal.
Pits of seeds for spitting out.
White tidbits all hard and stout.
Strands of web to reach the heart.
Spirits strong where pressures part.
Fetch the scoop to scoop out goop.
Scrape the wall and cause it droop.
Oust the pulp on old newpapers.
Save the seeds to fry in vapours.
Pumpkins lit and glowing lanterns.
Angled eyes shine light in patterns.
Flickered smiles from waxy wicks.
Labotomys, the night of tricks.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2014
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