My Grandpa came to our house for Thanksgiving but he didn’t say too much,
We sat him in front of the game and provided him with chips and such.
When it was time to eat we moved him to the head of the table,
Mom brought his food to him but he didn’t seem too stable.
He said that he liked it but a lot of food was left upon his plate,
And even though it was afternoon he said that it was getting late.
We knew that the Alzheimer’s made him want to get back to his room,
But we didn’t like to see him this way, afraid of his impending doom.
Then mom asked if he’d like to have a piece of fresh home made apple pie,
His eyes lit up as he sat back down and said he might like to give that a try.
For one piece of my mom’s apple pie my grandpa was back amongst the living,
That one piece of my mom’s apple pie reminded us of the meaning of Thanksgiving.