pumpkin night

time to put the sea shells down
time to talk to men of might
time to hem the skirts all wrong
time to dance on through the night
with anger and foot stomps
I do not dance so well
but when the tears come crowding in
the room it clears so very swift
with no mention of the mid night sound
of princes knocking on the door
while sisters gather around the gossip tree
and wonder why I am gone
be glad that I do not see
what has gone on for now
and ever more
the voices shrill like chalk dust tea
and we part ways just the same
each with our own smiles