lillian the home poet

You should have known,
pumpkins do rot.

Center stage, porch light blazing,
oohed and aahed at by passersby.
Bright eyes lit from within.
But candle burns, continually drips.
Insides shrivel, eyes begin to droop.
Carved in grin begins to sneer.

Inevitably the brouhaha ends
crowds thin, candle burns out.
Orange flesh sags, collapses from within.
Maggots begin to appear.
You should have known,
pumpkins do rot.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is OLN (Open Link Night) at dVerse so we can post any one poem of our choosing. No required topic, form or length.