A Pumpkin Remembers
As pumpkin took pen to paper, for a moment, as he sat at his writing desk by the window, he closed his pumpkin eyes and he remembered…
There he’d be walking in the park, his favorite place. The little clear water brook meandered along so quietly and gently. Loving nature and all its beauty he’d often hear the sweet songs of the birds flying by, some low, some high.
Pumpkin would always stop at his favorite rock and he’d hop atop it thinking it be so cool. A rest stop in his adventures, he’d grab his backpack and grab a flavored water to quench his thirst and for a minute as he drank he’d look to the many trees, feeling the coolness of the autumn breeze.
And there that day on a branch not too high a bird of multi-colored feathers would stop, land on that branch, take a long minute and begin to sing its song. Pumpkin would watch the bird and listen as its sweet melody brought peace to such a serene scene. Pumpkin would listen, would look at the bird, smile and he swore the bird seemed to return his gaze.
Day after day whenever Pumpkin would return to the park, he’d stop at the rock grab a drink from his pack and he’d wait for he knew the little songbird would fly by and look for him too.
Sometimes though for reasons unknown Pumpkin would wait and wait and eventually jump off the rock with no sweet song to accompany him home. He’d ponder and he’d wonder and he’d sit at his desk and look to the sky hoping he’d see his songbird fly on by.
Until one day there she’d be on her branch waiting for him to come on by. He’d hop up on the rock the stream would glisten and all he had to do was listen to the bird’s sweet song, her song of love and Pumpkin would know it because she was the one singing it to him, to her sweet Pumpkin, oh how she loved him so much.
As Pumpkin sits at his writing desk by the window, as he takes pen to paper, he softly sings the songs his songbird sings to him; sweet words of love, it’s lyrics so special and its melody as beautiful as the gentle flowing, glistening brook, out in the park by Pumpkin’s favorite rock.
There he’d be walking in the park, his favorite place. The little clear water brook meandered along so quietly and gently. Loving nature and all its beauty he’d often hear the sweet songs of the birds flying by, some low, some high.
Pumpkin would always stop at his favorite rock and he’d hop atop it thinking it be so cool. A rest stop in his adventures, he’d grab his backpack and grab a flavored water to quench his thirst and for a minute as he drank he’d look to the many trees, feeling the coolness of the autumn breeze.
And there that day on a branch not too high a bird of multi-colored feathers would stop, land on that branch, take a long minute and begin to sing its song. Pumpkin would watch the bird and listen as its sweet melody brought peace to such a serene scene. Pumpkin would listen, would look at the bird, smile and he swore the bird seemed to return his gaze.
Day after day whenever Pumpkin would return to the park, he’d stop at the rock grab a drink from his pack and he’d wait for he knew the little songbird would fly by and look for him too.
Sometimes though for reasons unknown Pumpkin would wait and wait and eventually jump off the rock with no sweet song to accompany him home. He’d ponder and he’d wonder and he’d sit at his desk and look to the sky hoping he’d see his songbird fly on by.
Until one day there she’d be on her branch waiting for him to come on by. He’d hop up on the rock the stream would glisten and all he had to do was listen to the bird’s sweet song, her song of love and Pumpkin would know it because she was the one singing it to him, to her sweet Pumpkin, oh how she loved him so much.
As Pumpkin sits at his writing desk by the window, as he takes pen to paper, he softly sings the songs his songbird sings to him; sweet words of love, it’s lyrics so special and its melody as beautiful as the gentle flowing, glistening brook, out in the park by Pumpkin’s favorite rock.
