They call you waxy, tasteless, bland,
A candy no one wants to eat;
They leave you sitting, bowl in hand,
While chocolate gets the royal seat.
But I will rise and make the case
For little kernels, orange, white, gold:
You bring the autumn to its place,
A tiny harvest bright and bold.
You\'re shaped like corn, and that is true—
A curious shape for candy fare;
But Halloween would feel less new
Without your little tri-colored stare.
You\'re not a truffle, rich and grand,
Nor caramel that stretches sweet;
You ask no chocolate-covered hand,
No fancy wrapper makes you complete.
Perhaps your greatest crime, I say,
Is simply being what you are:
A humble taste of Halloween,
A little autumn in a jar.
So let the haters have their say,
Let chocolate claim the candy throne;
I\'ll gladly eat your kernels,
And proudly call the corn my own.
For when October fills the air
With pumpkins, ghosts, and harvest light,
There you\'ll be waiting, as you should—
Three little colors, pure delight.
And if they ask, \"Who eats that stuff?\"
I\'ll answer without hesitation:
I do.
And that\'s enough.