Grateful

Grateful

People ask me the same question,

About Thanksgiving and my reflections.

Of times past, and present, and those yet to come,

Of merriment and turkey, “Oh, I’d like to have some.”

It’s been this way for as long as I’ve known,

Early mornings in the kitchen, cooking alone.

Why go to the trouble some have often asked,

From the time of my youth now all in the past.

Spices and herbs add that special touch,

As I remember Mom’s hands adding so much.

Gone are those that shared memories with all,

Leaving deep within me the “how-to” to recall.

So, for the time I have remaining like others I’m sure,

I’ll give of myself to make a day filled with love pure.

On each plate, some offering portioned out galore,

Each a memory from times that are no more.

Am I thankful for the things that I see before me?

The house, the clothes, the simple things that I see.

That is a question we answer the best that we can,

But for me, the answer is easier now than when I began.

Gone are those things that used to be,

Those people who were here and were easy to see.

What remained inside were those blessings called friends,

Who stay during the storms of life, staying until the end.