A Thanksgiving Poem

A Thanksgiving Poem

'Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn't sleep.
I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.
The leftovers beckoned--the dark meat and white,
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.
Tossing and turning with anticipation,
The thought of a snack became infatuation.
So I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door,
And gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.
I gobbled up turkey and mashed potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.
I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
'Til all of a sudden I rose off the ground.
I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky
With a mouthful of ice cream and a handful of pie.
But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees,
"Happy eating to all .. pass the cranberries, please.
May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump.
May your potatoes 'n' gravy have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize.
May your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs."