It was the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house, everyone was 
sleeping, even the mouse.
They were dreaming of turkey, potatoes and dressing, macaroni and cheese and biscuits and blessings.
Their plates would run over, but they would finish each bite in hopes of returning for seconds that night.
They would retreat to the sofa and drift off to sleep, the TV would blare, but they would not make a peep.
Before it was over, they would wake and eat pie, and when it was bedtime, they would let out a sigh.
What a meal they had eaten, and a good time they had, their tummies were full and everyone glad.
For one day in November many thanks were remembered, and they planned to repeat it next month in December.
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