The Harvest of Family

The harvest of his family
On each Thanksgiving Day
Was Granddad's way of giving love;
Good fortune was our pay,

For everyone gained from his gift,
Tradition was begun.
He carried it throughout his years
Until his work was done.

Those special days were precious ones
Through many happy years;
It was a time when joy prevailed,
A time devoid of tears.

The family renewed on love
And friendship thrived in all
Because those days were envy-free
And everyone stood tall.

That kind of harvest has no peer,
It was indeed supreme,
And it still looked upon as prime;
Reality, no dream.

~ Ralph A. Porterfield