In honor of the occasion, I’ve composed a poem inspired by something we all love — Thanksgiving leftovers. Oh yes! Call me callous. Call me calculating. Call me cold. But call me tomorrow for leftovers. If anyone in my family should read this, of course it isn’t about YOU! We hope.
Next Year’s Forecast
by David L. Harrison
Please forgive my greasy grin
With gravy dripping off my chin
As I admire my loving kin
Amid Thanksgiving burbling din.
I love to watch my family munch,
Although with so much eager crunch
I have a sudden sinking hunch
I’ll have no lovely leftovers lunch!
They’re gobbling all the turkey breast,
Pecan pie and all the rest.
Tomorrow I won’t feel so blessed.
Next year there’ll be fewer guests.