The Feast

 

Leaves falling from trees, swirls of gold and red

Friends and family gathered, thanks being said.

 

Wind blows cold and bitter, down an alleyway,

O’r a heap of newspaper, on Thanksgiving Day.

 

Oven roasted turkey, Maple cured ham,

Creamy mashed potatoes, Sweet candied yams.

 

‘Neath that chilly heap, trying to keep warm,

A shivering, starving female, sheltered from the storm.

 

Everyone having had their fill, and then even more,

Gathered round the T.V., keeping track of the score.

 

‘Neath that mound of paper, a little girl does cry,

And sees her own feast, in her minds eye.

 

Time to set it up, now the game is won,

A pretty little tree and ornaments so fun.

 

‘Neath that mound of news, a little girl does see,

Her own sparkling, festive Christmas tree.

 

So much to be thankful for, on this merry day,

The house, the car, the kids, too much to say.

 

‘Neath that rustling heap, she smiles, what a sight!

She’s thankful to have made it, through another night.

Reviews

[A.J. Smith]

A stirring reminder that we all need to stop and take a look around us...there are others who need a helping hand, or a prayer.

[~Dreamer~]

i like this poem a lot
it really desribes wat its like to be in both places
and it makes you think twice about the other people in this world who dont get to have those type of things
very well done
great job