I know Thanksgiving is not always a happy day. This poem was written on November 24, 1994, during a particularly tumultuous time for my family.
The air is filled with good smells
All is supposed to be good and well
But this year is a living hell
With the mounds of mashed potatoes and turkey
Everyone is supposed to be full
But there is an empty space
Where love is supposed to be
Everything is so cold
And the wind blows so free
On Thanksgiving you’re supposed to be happy for what you’ve got
On this special day you are to be happy a lot
Maybe next year
I’ll get through it with no tears.
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