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The Sad Pumpkin
darkness falls upon the pumpkin patch
a light fog rolls in...
dropping a mist upon the ground
in the corner entangled in its own vines
the sad pumpkin sits alone
the leaves upon its stems droop...
from the weight of the mist
unable to break free from its own entanglement
it sits...
trapped
and covered up
the night passes by paying no attention
through the fog the dim shimmer of stars
the moon awash in a sea of grey
life moves forward paying no mind
as the sad pumpkin sits,
wallowing
in its own predicament
the ground grows cold,
saturated by the mist
the fog grows more dense
a flash of color,
brightly orange
quickly engrossed by a mist of grey
through the fog
the sad pumpkin can see
the other pumpkins gathering
basking in the brisk moist air
paying no mind to the dense fog
the brilliance
of their bright colors
striking orange...
the deep green
of their stems and leaves
pale to what its own colors use to be
now which only seem
watered down
and dingy
the greens have turned
a lighter shade of brown
the brilliant orange
now cast in shades of yellow
worn spots show through the skin
revealing darker shades within
alone the sad pumpkin sits
engrossed
and entangled
wallowing
its vines constricting
held prisoner by its own self
looking through the mist
and beyond the fog
past its own tangle vines
and wilted leaves
hoping that a brighter day will come
perhaps
with the morning light
a light fog rolls in...
dropping a mist upon the ground
in the corner entangled in its own vines
the sad pumpkin sits alone
the leaves upon its stems droop...
from the weight of the mist
unable to break free from its own entanglement
it sits...
trapped
and covered up
the night passes by paying no attention
through the fog the dim shimmer of stars
the moon awash in a sea of grey
life moves forward paying no mind
as the sad pumpkin sits,
wallowing
in its own predicament
the ground grows cold,
saturated by the mist
the fog grows more dense
a flash of color,
brightly orange
quickly engrossed by a mist of grey
through the fog
the sad pumpkin can see
the other pumpkins gathering
basking in the brisk moist air
paying no mind to the dense fog
the brilliance
of their bright colors
striking orange...
the deep green
of their stems and leaves
pale to what its own colors use to be
now which only seem
watered down
and dingy
the greens have turned
a lighter shade of brown
the brilliant orange
now cast in shades of yellow
worn spots show through the skin
revealing darker shades within
alone the sad pumpkin sits
engrossed
and entangled
wallowing
its vines constricting
held prisoner by its own self
looking through the mist
and beyond the fog
past its own tangle vines
and wilted leaves
hoping that a brighter day will come
perhaps
with the morning light
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