I can breathe so I can get out of bed,
I am alive and open two eyes to see!
I can move here there everywhere,
and go into the kitchen and smell,
all the good thing that are cooking.
In this house a delicious turkey,
stuffing, biscuits, muffins, rolls,
rich buttery pound cake, German chocolate,
sweet potato and pumpkins pies.
The aroma from the kitchen astounds you.
Your mouth screams suffer me no more,
If we don't dine soon I will parish,
the aroma alone slays me!
Please tempt my fate and my wait,
with a succulent glass of wine.
For this moment I am so grateful,
to God our Father in heaven.
Who make all things possible!
Yum Yum, you made me hungry, Michael. I need to have holiday dinner at your house! We have so much to be thankful for and not enough time to give enough thanks. Lovely poem.
In the waning days of World War II, a man lies injured in a London hospital, shrouded in mystery and confusion. He is an American serviceman, stripped of his identity and memories, save for the name John, and plagued by vivid visions of battles that