Thanksgiving Poem

The leaves begin to fall, and the days are getting shorter.
The temperature is colder, shrinking parts below the border.
The air is very crisp, frosting everything that’s living.
And all these signs, they mean one thing, it has to be Thanksgiving.
Come young come old, come far and wide, come every family member.
Come tall come short, come thin come fat, come every race and gender.
We’ll have a feast to celebrate the things that we are thankful for.
We’ll eat so much, we’ll get so drunk, we won’t be leaving through the door.
Pass the buns and pass the bread, and pass the mashed potatoes.
Pass the garden salad please, the one with the tomatoes.
Have some wine, and have some beer, we all shall give our toasts
And then tuck in and grab a fork and dig into the roasts.
There’s turkey, ham, and duck, and veal, they all are cooked just right.
We’ll fill our faces once or twice, then sleep right through the night.
The meal is done, but the drinks continue, everyone is in good cheer.
Another toast to health and wellness, everyone drink up their beer.
At twelve o’clock the drink kicks in, and the light weights drop like flies.
The 16 year old who snuck some vodka passes out and nearly dies.
Everybody heads for bead, the night is finally over.
And in the morning they awake, everyone hung-over.
Everybody waves goodbye, and thinks inside their head,
I’ll never drink that much again, I’ll stick to apple juice instead.
But two months later everybody’s sitting in the den.
It’s Christmas time, there’s food and drink, and the whole things starts again.