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

the weeping jack o'lantern
(the transformation of the sad pumpkin)

on a brighter day the sun shines down
it seems the day has come around
the warming sun has dried the mist
as the hazy fog begins to lift

the time has come for the leaves to turn
the wind will change and the trees will burn
as the temperature falls and the air turns crisp
the time of year when pumpkins get picked

the crunching sounds of dried dead leaves
trampled underneath of peoples feet
within the patch the spirits rise
the pumpkins showing their best sides

one by one they are taken home
shaped and carved and put up for show
in the corner the sad pumpkins waits
for its turn it anticipates

knowing it will not get picked first
but also aware that it cant be the worst
hoping it will catch someones eye
wishing that people would stop walking by

one after another the pumpkins are picked
entangled in vines the sad pumpkin sits
and now its time has finally come
its going home with someone

on the table the pumpkin waits
for the shape of its new face
wondering how it might appear
full of hope and joy and cheer

but what is carved for all to see
a dreary face of misery
a drooping smile and gloomy eyes
not at all what it had in mind

as the pumpkins sits on display
trapped behind its dreary face
with a tiny light that burns inside
burning right behind its eyes

perhaps the world can see beyond
the face that says its all gone wrong
and see the light thats burns within
and know the pumpkin really grins