The Fall and Redemption of the Prideful Pumpkin

A seed was planted in a patch,
In a myriad of rows
Slowly, slowly it takes shape
Many a day it took to grow.

Twisting, tangling its vines spread forth
Bright orange they begin to turn
The air is crisp, the leaves aglow
And the autumn fires burn. 

They separate, they all line up
Ready to showcase their style
"Pick me! Pick me" they seem to say
Right now, they are all on trial 

Judged for shape, for color, for girth
Not a one is like another
They wait so hopeful and hold their breath
As those passing by do hover. 

Alas! One is chosen
Celebration is due!
This squash is then weighed
Its pounds...32!!

It's carefully heaved to the back of a truck
Surrounded by blankets it wont tend to roll,
Eventually it rests on the front of a porch
This fruit, so desired, has becomes prideful. 

"Ha! I am priceless! The others would say,
'He has it all to himself up here on a throne
I wish I were him, I wish I were there
I wish I had a spot all my own'."

"What is this? What is happening?
Ouch! That hurts!
Not my stem, not my top..
NOT MY INNARDS!!" 

"Oh my! How intrusive!
Oh how can this be?!
My beautiful roundness
Is scarred and ugly!" 

This pumpkin felt empty inside
As he sat on that porch all alone,
When people laughed at him
He could think only of home. 


"How cruel I have been
Thinking I was better than they
For certain they are happy
And here I am on display!" 

That pumpkin shined his light
One night, all alone
But come noon the next day
He was brought into the home.

Broken and sad
It began to mope
But what was in store
Gave that squash hope.

Sliced and diced
The fruit was transformed
It smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg
It was soft and warmed.

"I once was so proud..
'I am the best!' thought I,
But I found my true worth
When I tried humble pie."

Our Trip to the Patch