Head of the Table

The life of the house

Is my father.

He guards his children and his spouse

And never is a bother.

As he carves the turkey at the table’s head,

We all take in the moment of love.

We all take butter and slather bread.

After he slices it, he gives a gentle shove.

We place a premium on the gem of the meal.

As the aromas of thyme and garlic rise

Up from the feast, I think, ‘how real’!

I sit and eat and certainly feel.

My father prepares the entire dinner.

To follow him, I’d also be a winner.