Pumpkin PieA Poem by Ken e BujoldThis deal, raw intentions so harshly tendered, I expect will not hold through a winter's discontent. Come spring, with the lilacs in bloom, we'll turn the clocks ahead an hour, bury the bitter unfinished gourd from last September's skinty harvest, and plant a fresh field of seedlings. More resilient, re-confirmed, reminded of what was the initial undertaking of terms we will return to the garden and grow ourselves a new, grander pumpkin.
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2 Reviews Added on October 9, 2022 Last Updated on October 9, 2022 AuthorKen e BujoldSomewhere in Ontario, CanadaAboutWriters write, it's what we do. Fish swim, woodpeckers peck... writers scribble (inside and outside the lines). more..Writing
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