Thanksgiving

Come, gather round this rustic table

I’ll light a candle for a centerpiece

We’ll bask in the fading light of day

And let our hearts begin to speak

Of deepest wishes, never spoken

Dreams still in their infancy

The bitter taste of our misfortunes

Finding gold within debris.

We’ll raise a glass to all our triumphs

Whether minuscule or profound

Wiping tears away for losses

Lifting shoulders stooping down.

There is no need for formalities

On this day of thanks and giving

When all we need are warm, accepting souls

To restore our reasons for living.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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