A Thanksgiving Football Poem

Two sets of the same family, a ball to retrieve.

Aunts and Uncles and children ready to play,

A friendly game of football on this cool autumn day.

They are working up a hunger, for the feast to relieve.

The play begins slowly, fun and laughter the goal,

An early touchdown for Aunt Ginny, the game starts to roll.

The egos kick in; the hitting becomes rough,

A shoulder to Cousin Timmy, "Get up kid, be tough.".

What started as touch football, has become the Super Bowl.

Uncle Steve goes down, clutching his ankle in pain,

A sign to end early, along with the new cold rain.

The family is resilient, as the game has turned real,

Timmy is now crying, his mom has abandoned the meal.

Two touchdowns later, the family is looking less sane.

From the sidelines a shout, from old Grandpa Ray,

Stop this now children, it's Thanksgiving Day.

A drive to the hospital, their minds coming clear,

Timmy next to Uncle Steve still engulfed in fear.

Cousin Rick still clutches the ball, hoping to resume play.

The dinner starts late, eaten in shame,

The competitive family, lost control of the game.

Grandpa takes a stand, wanting to turn things around,

He slams his fist on the table; they shudder at the sound.

The table collapses, Thanksgiving is ruined and everyone is to blame.