My Father Grew Pumpkins

Sometimes a thing is just a thing;

Sometimes a memory
Pops into sight instead of what
Your eyes think that they see.
 
To everyone who passes by
This pumpkin’s big and round.
To me it is a legacy
Growing from the ground.
 
My father grew them every year
With love and tender care
So that his grandkids each had one
With several left to spare.
 
Now he is gardening with God
And I grow pumpkins here,
In part to give them to the kids,
In part to hold him near.