I found a poem in a pumpkin patch.
It rode along with me in the little red wagon
meant for holding pumpkins,
while you pulled me over the bumpy dirt trail.
It became the butterflies inside my stomach
when you looked back at me,
smiling with your perfectly straight teeth.
My poem followed us through the corn maze,
laughing as we confronted yet another dead end.
It ate apple cider donuts with us,
only 3.5 donuts out of the 6 our hungry stomachs insisted on buying.
It fed mangy llamas along side us,
lost it's breath with me when the ostrich tried to eat your favorite Blackhawks hat.
It was even there when we stole the plumpest pumpkin we could find,
sneaking out of the gates like Bonnie and Clyde.