Alas Poor Pumpkin

Fat sits the pumpkin’s gruesome gnarly grin snarling at the darkness… wondering just when…. when will come the demons…fat shrunken little men fairy, pixie, witch…. flying super heroine. Warily he eyes them – peripheral this fear without ears he cannot see them coming from the rear a candle burns within his mouth a licking tongue of flame adds a glow to flickering eyes and slowly fries his brain. As footsteps fail… the din subsides the lights go out…. the shadows hide and he, headliner of the bash sits atop tomorrow's trash. ©10/28/2019 submitted to Itch, witch, glitch or twitch Poetry Contest