This my Thanksgiving poem
is just a simple little thing,
when we carve the turkey
you can give the dog a wing.
But first there must be the smells
that will fill the house
but when the yams catch afire
a pan of water surely should douse.
And when the turkey falls apart
just put it on the plate,
it won't matter anyhow
it still gonna get ate.
When you eat the pumpkin pie
save a piece for me,
I baked it so I expect later
a piece there'd better be.
I'll do the dishes later
I'll be to stuffed to do them now,
would someone please explain to me
where all that food goes and how.
But before we touch this food
there was something I almost forgot to say
we are grateful for the gifts from above
so let's thank the Lord and pray.
On the wings of words our spirits fly, and our souls are free.