Day Four

Today's words:

pumpkin
pillow
lap
algae
ghost
supplies

The moon was a fat yellow pumpkin.

I lay back on the pillow

While you held the cat in your lap.

"Hs head smells like algae,"

You sniffed, "And this room feels haunted by the ghost

"Of parties past. Time for more supplies."

I know how hate supplies

Love; I didn't just crawl out of the pumpkin

Patch. My mother's ghost

Won't haunt me, however much I clutch my pillow.

Instead, all I get is algae

Covering the walls, while no-one sits in my lap.

"Ha!" you scoff, "Take a victory lap

"Around this wretched room! Our supplies

"Are dangerously low. Soon we'll be eating algae

"Or that rotted Hallowe'en pumpkin

"You refuse to throw out." I cover my ears with the pillow

So your screaming just sounds like a ghost.

When I die I'll be a ghost

And I'll sit in your lap

Although you won't see me. I'll have the weight of a pillow.

I won't need any supplies;

I'll be self-sufficient.  I'll call you my little pumpkin,

But you won't hear me, and I'll eat all the algae.

Just like a fish tank besmirched with algae

This room is but a ghost

Of its former state. Like a hollowed-out pumpkin

Left in a skeleton's lap,

It risks collapse without supplies

To pump it up, like maybe a pillow.

All I need is a pillow

For my head. The rest is algae - 

Unnecessary, even choking off our supplies

Of air and light. The past is a ghost

I hold in my lap

And you're hardly a pie, my pumpkin.

I thought the pillow was a ghost

But I mistook the algae in your lap

For the love that supplies the growing pumpkin.