Thanksgiving Day

The turkey is done, the food put away.
I finished another 40 hour day.
The dishes are clean and put back in their place.
The laundry is folded, the trash bag
replaced.
The tub has been scrubbed for the
evening of baths.
You ask if I’m tired? I can only laugh.
There is no time to be thinking of that
I just realized I did not feed the cat.
The floors that I washed have a new
film of dirt.
I walk into the door, it’s OK I’m not
hurt.
Oh, thank God for this time of family
bliss.
Thank God that it’s over I silently hiss.
As you all watch the TV, relaxed, and
well fed.
I crawl up the stairs and fall dead on
the bed.
In my dream I am waited on morning
till night.
I work when I please, and there’s never a fight.
The house always clean, the children
polite.
I have to be dreaming, this just isn’t
right.
I always come back to what seems to be,
a secret between us, the truth about me.
I love the big tired a day like this
brings.
But I’d never admit it, it’s one of
those things.