How plump and orange is my love beside
The porch chair, sitting slouch’d from august heat.
Bought too soon, she rots from the inside,
So she will never hear, “trick or treat.”
The porch chair, sitting slouch’d from august heat.
Bought too soon, she rots from the inside,
So she will never hear, “trick or treat.”
“You’re too far gone to roast and eat as pie,
And while your skin, though tough, is keeping taught,
There’s no amount of spice enough to lie
About your age and keep you young,” I thought.
She bakes from the inside out, a Pumpkin
Pie devoid of love and flavor, my vain
Attempts at being festive, I jumped in
Too quickly onto the seasonal train.
You die in shame, in heat, in grief, and why
When all I wanted was a piece of pie?
And while your skin, though tough, is keeping taught,
There’s no amount of spice enough to lie
About your age and keep you young,” I thought.
She bakes from the inside out, a Pumpkin
Pie devoid of love and flavor, my vain
Attempts at being festive, I jumped in
Too quickly onto the seasonal train.
You die in shame, in heat, in grief, and why
When all I wanted was a piece of pie?
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