Grateful (A Thanksgiving Poem)

Grateful for your hands,
And the times when they meet mine.
Grateful for the leaves,
Falling, falling from the once full summer trees.
Grateful for sweaters,
And the loose bills left over in them from last winter.
One dollar, two dollars… I’m rich.

Ungrateful for this never-ending war,
For the pain in my mother’s heart.
For the cold nights without you,
And for the years wasted and left behind.
Ungrateful for the famine,
In places I’ve never been.
And for the day we left my father,
And never looked back again.

Grateful for the rain,
Pitter-pattering on my back,
When I lie in the grass with you,
Wishing things never change.
Grateful for books,
And the outlets they provide,
Grateful for the chance they give me
To pretend that things are fine.

Ungrateful for those sleepless nights,
And the tossing and turning they bring.
Ungrateful for lost friends,
And the distance just too big to close back up again.

Thankful for the spring,
And the new hope that it will bring.

Ungrateful for the fact,
That time cannot be turned back again.