Not Particularly Well

Prior to remembering it was Halloween, I wrote this poem about coughing. Then I wrote another poem with a similar theme but containing Halloween's fruit to take full advantage of the day. Enjoy, if you'd be so kind.

I coughed.

And then I coughed again.

This occurred for an indefinite amount of time.

A freshly carved pumpkin caught a cold,

Or something like a cold.

It's fairly safe to assume the person who carved him was infected.

The pumpkin coughed,

Which startled some people,

And blew out his candle.

So he got lost in the night sky.