i’m patrolling
a pumpkin
patch,
and..
my hand throbs for
your dainty
clasp,
yet, my breath won’t
reach your
neck
and autumn bites
the virgin jack-
o-lanterns
like rusted apples on
a cold, hard
bed..
braced for crisp
night ahead.
artwork at – https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/246712885808295381/
