Thanksgiving Night

The feasting is over.
The visitors have gone.
The house is quiet
And I'm all alone.

There are dishes to wash
And the laundry awaits;
The floors need sweeping
And my library books are late.

There are crumbs on the couch
And leftovers to freeze.
But my throat's all scratchy
And I think I'm gonna' sneeze.

There are ads in the paper
That I need to search through,
There are bathrooms to clean,
So darn much to do!

The pumpkins are still scattered
All around my house.
So are the scarecrows
And the witches' house.

But my body is tired
and my bones are in pain.
And my beautiful bed
It's calling my name.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz