Thanksgiving Is Never Fancy

We never create fancy; the mother-in-law told her son’s bride.
Just bring a sack of chips or something, as long as it’s not fried.
Aunt Carol brings the green bean casserole and the potatoes sure.
Uncle Ed is the only one who can make gravy flat with his stir.

Thanksgiving is casual, and I will host it every year I am alive.
Just bring my sweet son and be at my door by a quarter til five.
The bride offered to bring candied yams, she thought hers were fine.
Sorry, her mother-in-law replied. “If they aren’t mine, we can’t dine.”

What about pies? The young woman queried, trying to please.
I usually bake with my mother, and we make them up in threes.
We have that covered, the woman said. Just be a sweet dear.
Bring my boy home, and you will be more than welcome here.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Hankins Avatar
November 22, 2022 at 10:07 AM
Oh, my. This is such a poignant poem expressing a momma's fondest wish. I like this, Caren.
Krutsinger Avatar
November 22, 2022 at 9:02 PM
I thought you might
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace