The Pumpkin Ghoul
The pumpkin ghoul came tiptoeing in
Silently, with slimy sleazy stuff on his chin.
I saw him turn, and I knew it was just a whim
But I wanted to give him some vigor and vim.
The pumpkin cake I had just made.
Would have been tasty with fresh lemonade.
But I did not want to insult the pumpkin ghoul.
If it was made of his relatives, would I be a fool?
What kind of relatives are your pumpkin kin?
I asked him as politely as I could. His name was Glen.
He gave me a stare that froze my blood into ice.
Even for a ghoul, he was simply not very nice.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022
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