Innocence Lost

in she walked
beads in hand
her aging face
drawn in pain

until that day
a source of fear
her hostile voice
now soft and kind

please kneel and pray
was her request
our president
has just been shot

Unclaimed Pumpkins

there they sit
amidst the stubble
too large or small
or oddly shaped

not good enough
for pie or lantern
left to rot
in chilly fields

no ghosts or pirates
sliced these orbs
no gracious guests
praised their taste

but then their plight
is not so bad
to blend with earth
before the spring

if claimed at first
and taken home
they'd now await
the garbage truck