Thanksgiving

It’s dark, it’s cold and leaves drift down.

To rest softly upon the frozen ground.

‘Till they’re covered by gentle snow.

That will put them to bed, with a cover of cold.

The littles are tucked into their beds.

The table is still full of leftovers, turkey, pumpkin pie, bread,

cranberry sauce, cookies, stuffing, yams and more.

And as I watch it starts to snow.

I’m glad I have a home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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