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Wednesday, December 5, 2001 'Thanksgiving' This poem was written before the holidays in 1976. My sister lost her husband a few months before en route to their son's wedding. The approaching holidays didn't make matters any easier and thus the reminiscing of past holidays sort of inspired the basis of their poem. I'm sure that your readers will enjoy and relate to this poem. Thank your newspaper for allowing our expressions to be viewed by your readers.
Mom's in the kitchen preparing a feast, Basting the turkey and, to say the least, Our favorite stuffing and pumpkin pie; The world's best cook and that's no lie.
Dad's in the barn, filling his jug. Sister go fetch him, give him a hug. Mom's basting the turkey with wine, you see. Dad would rather drink it and "Do-Re-Me-".
Tell little brother to wash his face. The table is set, every dish in its place. Yams, apple cider and cranberry sauce; Mom's almost ready to serve the first course.
Now we're all sitting, preparing to eat. A silence has fallen; there's one empty seat. Our symbol for those who can't afford, The time has come to thank the Lord.
May your blessings be with us, on this special day. May we venture to thank you, in our simple way. For the fruits of thy bounty, and the gift in store. The time has come to thank the Lord.
Nicholas Petroro Sharpsburg
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