a poem by Emma Joy, age nine
On a bright summer's day,
I opened my cupboard
Just to find a bright orange pumpkin,
Round and fat and broad.
I asked, "Ms. Pumpkin,
What might you be doing here?"
She said, with a voice like honey,
"I have come to say that autumn is near."
I looked outside, and before my eyes,
The trees, oh my! The trees!
What a beautiful sight that met my eyes!
'Twas red and orange and gold.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "'Tis the perfect time for pies!
I shall make pumpkin, apple, and cherry pies.
But I won't use you, Ms. Pumpkin,
For I think you are quite nice.
Most pumpkins that I've met before
Are rude and cold as ice."
And from that day
And up till now,
Ms. Pumpkin is my friend.
I think that you
Should meet her,
When you see me again.