Thanksgiving Aftermath

 

There is an old poem that states that "Christmas comes but once a year, and when it does it brings good cheer." The lesser known cap to the verse also states "But when it's gone, it's never near." Well, here it is a couple of days after Thanksgiving and the same can be said about it: it's gone until next year, despite the leftovers still haunting the fridge. "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat" off the extended Black Friday sales. But I thought I'd post an old poem here in tribute to the Ghosts of Thanksgivings Past.

 Thanksgiving: November 23, 1989

 

The grass was green, the winter grass,

as green as spring was new.

The road was empty, swept and clean,

except for me and you.

The light was clear, the golden light,

and long the sunbeams lay

As you and I went walking

on that far November day.

 

We had our canes, our India canes,

that we bought as a pair;

We tramped the highway tapping them

with hardly any care.

We talked of things, of future things,

and things of futures past

And the day was decked in joy

and the day went by too fast.

 

The times we had, times long ago,

now long ago are gone

And memories fade as colors fade

and fading are undone;

But I shall find, and finding know,

and knowing shall remember

This poem I wrote, wrote of us two,

and a day in November.