The Burning Pumpkin

Written by Danielle E. Pasqua

Copyright © October 7, 2016



In the woods lay the burning pumpkin

With golden eyes like that of a candle

Reminding me that an early night had begun

The perfectly carved face signified something

It was time for a jacket, goodbye to sandals

Just campfire stories of ghosts and skeletons


I then picked the pumpkin up with my gloves

And felt a mist of cold, as well as a flame

I then blew the fire out with one breath

As the smoke vanished into the sky above

Tradition has no shame