The Pumpkin Patch Poem by stephanie varnadore

My dream was too spectacular,
It was of the pumpkin patch.
Costumers came car after car,
They bought pumpkins from the thatch.
Multi-color pumpkins, including corn,
Green, white and orange of many sizes.
Some stems are perfect, but most are torn,
But nobody cares, unless there is a crisis.
The foul smell of rotten pumpkin guts,
Envelop the dumpster out back.
The odor smelt worse than a dog hut,
When cleaning the swine was of certain lack.
Most days the pumpkin patch is where I'll be,
When most of my friends are out by the sea.