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The Pumpkin Pie

Friday, November 29, 2013

What can I say,
It's once a year.
A tradition of sorts,
The worst kind, I fear.

I'd intended to freeze
The pieces, I wrote.
You commended the idea,
But now I could float.

Like a balloon at the parade
At Macy's, I'm stuffed.
No, I wasn't a piglet
But had more than enough.

The pumpkin pie was small
Yes, honestly, so.
And I enjoyed every bite
Now I'll let this treat go.

Until next Thanksgiving
When I'll be much more tough
And be able to ignore it,
But this year, it was rough.

To give up this simple pleasure
I'm sure you understand what I mean.
I'll leave it at that
I enjoyed at the Thanksgiving scene.

But I exercised well
And wasn't a slouch.
Moved around a whole bunch
And got off of the couch.

If there's one thing I know
It's that I love pumpkin pies.
Unfortunately so do
My two now-thin thighs.

That will be thin no more
If I keep this up.
So I'll be a good girl
Till next year's cup.

That runneth over with
So many good things
That my willpower still
Can't completely take wings.

And ignore the goodies,
I lament that it's true.
But at next year's tradition
I'll know what NOT to do.
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