Day After Thanksgiving Blues—a poem—-a very crude poem

This morning I woke up to see,
The bathroom scales lying at me.

Up five pounds, that can’t be right,
The pumpkin pie had Cool Whip light!

Elastic’s now my new best friend.
Buttons and snaps, never again.

There’s nothing left to do but wish,
I hadn’t eaten that eleventh dish.

If I don’t get my butt in gear,
I’ll  be the butterball next year.

The kitchen looks like a tornado hit,
Facebook’s calling, I’ll just sit.

Dirty dishes pile the sink,
Toss ’em out and buy more I think.

The turkey carcass is out back,
A special treat for an alley cat.

The family fight I did endure,
four weeks till Christmas, then some more.

I’m not a poet, you will find,
Tryptophan has clogged my mind.

by Angel aka Butterball

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