Decaying pumpkins on the porch, forlorn
Reminders of the night that’s now long past
When ghosts and goblins walked the streets, reborn
And children laughed, their candy bags amassed
But now, the gourds are soft and leaking goo
Their orange hues now dull and gray with mold
A sight most uninviting, it is true
A symbol of the end, a story told
Yet still, the Christmas lights are burning bright
A garish clash of seasons, red and green
A tree that’s shedding needles, left in sight
A decoration that should not be seen
So let us take the hint from nature’s course
And put away the old, and make way for new discourse.