Pumpkin Bluuuuuues

When wandering the streets of Paris decadent in light,
Autumnal splendor reigns with all its elegance and might.

Just like the States, the leaves are changing, orange, red to gold.
The Renaissance of spring transfers the days from new to old.

But while I'm inundated with the pastries of the gods, 

From chausson de pomme, pain au chocolat,  and crisp croissant,

A small piece of my soul is missing,  tied to U.S. soil,
The thing associated to the time when witches toil.

As Halloween's upon us and the jack-o-lanterns rule,
I miss the pleasant wafts of pumpkin treats that make me drool.

Where is the bread so full of spice to celebrate the morn,
The pumpkin scone, to be without, turns afternoon forlorn.

Parisians have their virtues and I will not taint my speech,
While celebrating Hallow's Eve aside a Spanish beach.

But while the little zombies, ghosts, and Elsa's walk this night,
The loss of pumpkin glory is this expat's greatest fright.

Enjoy this Halloween and trick or treat you must effuse,
Why I sip sweet sangria sadly crooning pumpkin blues.