Made of the insides of the plant with many faces,

Eaten with a dollop of sweet white heaven,

2 peering faces staring through the lone glass pane on the oven door,

Addicting fumes rising through the room,

The dogs start barking,

The cat starts yowling,

Drooling mouths and eager faces,

Animals and people waiting for the door to open,

Mom yells for the plates,

Grandpa can’t hear enough to know what’s going on,

His head turns looking for anwers, rapid fire of random questions.

Dad is making a fire in the fireplace,

My and sister and I are bickering,

The door opens and times stops,

Pounding feet towards the kitchen,

Roaring laughter sure to ensue,

And then the silence of finally eating a slice of pumpkin pie,

Rolling over your tongue with thousands of flavors dancing across the fleshy plane.