Pumpkins

They are sitting in a patch. They are relaxing, and playing catch. They are waiting to be chosen. To sit on someone’s porch, frozen. Pumpkins have vines. Which is fine. Until they are cut. Then the pumpkin feels a rut. When first picked, they have a glow. But really, they are rotting slow. But it doesn't end there. Into the pumpkin, they cut out a square. An eye and nose. Then a candle, I suppose. A jack-o-lantern transformation. These pumpkins are sitting in formation. Despite all they went though, They are outshined, it is true. By giant skeletons, and ghosts on the lawn. Candles always lose their light by dawn. They were sitting in a pumpkin patch. They were just trying to have fun playing catch. Until they were cut from their vine. And for the rest of the season, they are destined to shine.