Pumpkin Pondering

Carry it like a babe in arms, Or asymmetrical soccer ball. Marvel at its inner chamber; Threaded seeds sleep in its room. Consider its genetic detail, Its encrypted secret code: Copies made for generations, Manuscripts illuminated - Still unknown. The silent child sees Cinderella Riding in her pumpkin coach. The artist sees its painted jacket, Sleek and smooth. And now, it’s time to sit and eat it – Orange, baked and sweet, Remembering other Sunday dinners - Now, all gone.