(a fictitious tale)
September 8-9,2014
The heat had melted *every* one -
every pumpkin in our patch!
Our patch became an orange pond,
which worried every man and witch.
But Nature's clever, Nature's cool:
She gathered straw and formed a broom.
The broom she dipped in our pumpkin-pool,
then painted bright our Harvest Moon.
And it was Super.
Epilogue
The heat gave way to Autumn's chill,
which molded orange orbs anew.
Our pumpkin patch is fruitful still,
awaiting visitors, like you.
2014 All rights reserved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your poem puts me in the Halloween mood...love it! ! ! good rhyme..funny too.. a ten from me..