To Catch A Ghost
Every Autumn when the air gets cold,
little Poe rises and breaks the hold.
The search begins for a treasure new,
an orange delight of which he has so few.
Under the dark sky he searches and wonders,
looking, listening, no time for blunders.
In a patch so large a smile on his face,
he grabs the pumpkin without a trace.
Off to the grave to return with pride,
another Halloween his soul had not died.
