T'was the night before Thanksgiving And all through the house Everyone was sleeping Except Mom…of course.
She had gotten the house ready And made all the lists 'Been planning for weeks There's nothing she missed.
But even still - late at night A mother's job's just not done There's always "one more thing" to do The battle's never won.
And so, years back At Thanksgiving time Our mom was ensuring All would be fine.
The pies were all baked And looked quite delicious The sides were prepared In their Thanksgiving dishes.
And, in a large stock pot Held our bird with no name Who would have known Things were about to change…
Dad was in charge Of the bird and the brine Just one job to handle Just one job this time.
Mom could have done it But she gave him a chore Just one job to handle Just ONE … and no more.
The stock pot that night Holding the bird for our Meal Was placed out in the cold… What? Who would possibly steal it?
It seemed logical Like a wise thing to do For the 'fridge was too small But was there a lid? or was it askew?
That's up for debate And will be for years Because on that dark night The bird disappeared!
Where did the "Turkey" go? He didn't walk away… The neighborhood fox Looked guilty, some say.
But did dad's big blooper Ruin Thanksgiving that year? Why, no…mom, of course Had a spare bird for good cheer!
And so, mom has taught me Be wise, be prepared For, it's a wonderful thing To show that you care.
What's the point of this poem? It's not just a story It's to highlight our moms Who deserve all the glory!
By, Kristen Ambrose
Posted on Wed, November 27, 2013
by Kristen Ambrose