One Year of Life, A Sonnet in Thanksgiving

One year of Life with all its strain and strife
Is like a precious jewel in Godzilla’s eye
Especially when you have no known wife
To comfort you and make you Pie.
Instead I have troops of trusty friends
Unexpected, I thought my dotage would
Be like Macbeth who had the bends
When to Dunsinane came Birnam wood.
It’s raining chocolate and it’s raining buns
Upon my carcase tho I deserve it not:
And my son in turn he has little ones
Who are sprouting from puking Babe to mewling Tot.

For thou didst not leave his soul in Hell
Instead he’s in Grantham and all is Swell.

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