Once, upon a pumpkin vine,
a pumpkin waited for a sign 
that he was different from the rest,
the biggest, grandest, and the best
of any pumpkin to be found -
plump and orange, firm and round.

He was indeed a handsome fella,
who’d heard by chance of Cinderella
and of the golden coach she rode in,
wearing jewelry that she glowed in.
And as you see in all the books
That coach just like a pumpkin looks.
 
“That could be me,” this pumpkin said.
(the others thought he’d lost his head)
“Just scoop me out and give me wheels,
I want to know just how it feels
to race along – to almost fly
up to a castle in the sky.
Just wait until some fairy sees me.
She’ll do the changes just to please me.”
 
Now, wasn’t that a silly thought!
A pumpkin really should be taught
to be himself, for pumpkin pride
is better than a glorious ride.
Besides, no fairy with a wand
comes flying from the land beyond
the clouds and rainbows in the sky
to visit pumpkins. 

                                   By and by,
the pumpkin knew she wasn’t coming.
Meanwhile other things were humming.
Witches stirred up tasty brew,
Goblins gathered; ghosts said, “Boo.”
We all know what such doings mean:
Now’s the time for Halloween.
 
The pumpkin said, “Okay.  I’m in.
Give me a jack-o’lantern grin.
Make it toothy.  Make it good.
The best one in the neighborhood.  
I wasn’t meant for wheels, I guess,
But I’ll be great at pumpkin-ness.”
 
And so he was.  And you can, too,
be great at being just plain you.