Pumpkin Soup

In total darkness, there exists a light,
An evil soul-devouring fluorescence,
Invisible to those with untrained sight,
A tool for those hungry for one's essence.

Filled with excitement Ken and Sue embarked,
The autumn colors full and brightly bloomed,
Forever it seemed since the two had marked,
In their notebook their plans, so long presumed.

They traveled backroads visiting small towns,
Until they spotted a fall festival,
Amused and joyful they parked on fairgrounds,
Exploring lush treasure from stall to stall.

October, Halloween, and Thanksgiving,
Mementos, baubles, trifles everywhere,
A kiosk with beautiful witches laughing,
Attracted them both with their witchy stare.

The coven of witches reached out to Ken,
With lecherous guffaws and roaming hands,
"We're making pumpkin soup, best-loved by men,
Please try?" But pumpkin's taste, Sue couldn't stand.

A witch stirred a cauldron. "It's done," she said,
Into bowls, they ladled the orange soup,
A bowl was set for Sue, Ken they spoon-fed,
Sue said, "I'm not eating that nasty goop!"

Sue hustled Ken away from the witches,
Ken slurred and reeled as if he were drunk,
She told Ken, "Stay away from those bitches,"
Sue drove to their room, into bed Ken sunk.

Ken often used the bathroom at night,
Although tonight he'd staggered a bit more,
That Ken had gotten up to Sue was trite,
Sue didn't know he'd gone out the inn's door.

At daybreak, no sign of Ken could Sue find,
His clothing was gone, the car was gone too,
She wondered if she were losing her mind,
The cops did, also, 'til they found a clue.

The car was crashed a few miles down the street,
Not a sign of Ken anywhere they sought,
The strangest thing, undisturbed on the seat,
Was a bowl of pumpkin soup, steaming hot.

40 Lines

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