The Entrails of a Pumpkin
The entrails of a pumpkin filled the pockets of his pants.
The cream and eggs were dripping from his chin.
The nutmeg clogged his nostrils and the honey glazed his hair.
The flour from the piecrust paved his skin.
His mother almost lost it when she walked into the room.
She gently wiped the ginger from his eye.
She kissed his head and hugged him as she chuckled to herself,
"My toddler tried to make a pumpkin pie."
Poem Copyright © Darren Sardelli (All Rights Reserved)
No comments:
Post a Comment