Pumpkin tendrils swayed this way,
Then that way, to and fro.
The leaves moved gently by that breeze
Hid dank dark space below.
The old man in the garden,
Was lost one sunny day.
Those tendrils pounced and pulled him in.
As compost he would stay.
They sucked the goodness out,
But there wasn’t much of that.
So they sucked out all the naughty,
Now they’re healthy green and fat.
© Copyright Philip Barton, March 22nd, 2026, All rights reserved
