Spiced Peaches

On Thanksgiving Day we each took our place
Mother brought food out
Father said grace
But before we could start, Mother would shout
"Wait everyone, the spiced peaches aren't out."

"Why all this fuss over peaches," I said.
"We've plenty of food."
"Please pass the bread."
Everyone gasped and Mother got in a mood.
It looked like we might go the whole day without food.

"Spiced peaches," she said when she recovered a bit,
"As everyone knows,
If you ask it,
Must be placed in the midst of the table for show
Thanksgiving can't happen without them, you know."

It made no sense to my young ear
Food began to grow cold
Hunger felt dear
"I see," said I, though truth be told
I said it to get us past Mother's harsh scold.

So on Thanksgiving Day we each started eating,
Roasted brown turkey,
Warm cornbread dressing,
Smooth mashed potatoes with boatloads of gravy,
Green beans with almonds and carrots cut wavy

Cold fresh fruit salad and green jelly mold
I wanted to try
Hot buttered rolls
Sweet candied yams, I thought I would die
Then came the call, "Save room for pie."

The peaches sat separately, neglected and sad
No one could eat them
That was too bad
"Spiced peaches?" asked Mother, still offering them
But we were too full to eat even a stem.