To Grow A B.F.P.

It started as a vision,

A thought so small, so pure,

Then grew to an obsession,

A burden to endure.

I wished to grow a pumpkin,

The biggest in the state,

Show it at the county fair,

A blue ribbon it would rate.

They’d come from every corner,

They’d come from near and far,

To see the wondrous pumpkin,

The size of a compact car!

I tried a Howden’s Biggie,

A ten pounder was all I got,

I tried the Atlantic Giant,

A giant it was not.

Big Max was next upon the list,

And then a Wyatt’s Wonder,

A Giant Magic gave me hope,

This hope was soon plowed under.

I tried them all, I tried my best,

I used every trick I knew;

The magic fertilizer,

The benefits of dew.

The vines were green and leafy,

Curled way past the garden gate;

Each blossom orange and brilliant,

And big as a dinner plate.

I waited and I waited,

For the little fruits to grow,

Into the massive pumpkins,

That would put on such a show!

The first day of October,

Should have been one to rejoice.

But, my darlings were not big enough;

Not one could be called choice.

Another losted summer,

No B.F.P. for me,

But hope springs forth eternal,

In May you know where I’ll be.