a poem by Ash sarge, USA

Before the ice,
Before the snow,
Spring, summer, and fall,
The pumpkins grow,
A garden, a patch,
Is it's home.

Tis the end ,
Of all the warmth,
Tis the end if flowers,
Let's plait our hair,
After sabbatical showers.

Cut the orange veggies,
Eyes, nose, and mouth,
Careful love,
The candle musn't go out.

So the spirits of those,
Gone before,
Can feast on the bounty,
We leave by the door.

Bless us for the cold months,
Bless us departed ones,
You are still ours,
May we always be yours.

This night,
You tend to wander,
In the gardens and the patch,
This night you visit home,
Pity, it cannot last.

The candle and the veggie,
Is here to show you,
The way,
Love and protection,
For you I pray.

~Wannbe Bard~

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