pumpkin poem

do not grieve that it is over
why do
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
there are gains for all our losses
glass-blower of time
master of human destinies am i
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
beneath the warrior's helm
lived by the river-side
he'd even have his joke
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
perhaps it is no matter that you died