‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving, when all through the grocery store
Not a turnkey was missing, not even the ones headed for the door;
The pies were prepared and baked with care,
In hopes that empty bellies would soon be there;
The men were all nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of stuffing, gravy, and mashed potatoes danced in their heads;
And mamma in her apron, and I in my yoga pants,
Had just finished baking and could do a small happy dance,
When at the grocery store the mountain of pies began to disappear,
The shoppers grabbed their cranberries and rolls knowing Thanksgiving was near;
Thinking of what they were thankful for they darted away,
Cupboard full of food they were ready for the next day,
The Americans sprang for their beds, for their shopping was done,
And for a time they could rest until they began all the fun.
But I knew they were awake imagining all the foods their stomachs were demanding,
Envisioning sitting on the couch, watching their waistbands expanding.