Thanksgiving

November days the trees aflame
Bright orange they do glow
Dads prepare to give their thanks
Fall nights begin to grow

I see them through their windows
Holding hands in prayer
And as I turn to walk away
I whisper I don't care

My turkey breast is on the stove
Hot still from being fried
I'll carve it with my dullest knife
Hardly giving it a try

I'll say my prayer and thank my Lord
For all that I so miss
Another hand to hold in mine
A simple hello kiss

But something tugs upon my heart
I know that I'm still blessed
And loved I am by He who reigns
My God in Whom I Rest


J.W. Boswell
Copyright 2015





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