A Thanksgiving Poem

         Barb Hodges has an acrostic poem on her blog.  It's about Thanksgiving. I am never very good at thinking of beginning lines that begin with the correct letter (they usually sound forced and contrived), and since I almost always try to push the limits, I prefer "staggered acrostic" poems.  Check out Barb's, and then you'll see that she is the light, frivilous and frothy one and I'm the serious, somber and introspective one. (Not!)

Every year I promise That next year,
I will not stuff myself until I have to huff and puff
to zip up my pants following the meal, but alas,
my good intentions turn to jelly (as in jellied cranberry sauce)
when the dishes keep coming out of the kitchen
and get placed on the table---savory stuffing, sweet potatoes
dotted with brown sugar,yeast rolls topped with globs of butter,
(and did I forget to mention the gravy, which is so good,
you want to drink it straight from the gravy boat (if you dare),
and as the finale, chocolate chiffon AND pumpkin pie...
But sadly, since menopause, my metabolism has gone into a coma
and I carry the memory of every holiday with me--my poochy gut
serves as a permanent cellulite "scrapbook,"
reminding me that after fifty, every bite I eat
is like a loyal friend---it sticks around forever...

photo by BarbaraCZ