MITT and APRON

 

The 22 pound turkey was roasting

And inwardly I was boasting

...but....

Its' spilled juices were hot;

I simply had to blot!

 

I flung off my red oven mitt ablaze with fire;

I stomped on it hard, my need dire.

 

Then noticed other flames - Holy Moly!

Why didn't I choose to serve Bertoli!

 

I ran to the sink my apron enflamed

Ran the water - Whew! I exclaimed.

 

I calmly trod into the family room

Fire put out, there was no fume.

 

Everyone sat with eyes agape;

We all laughed for heaven's sake.

 

A charred hole was visible to each eye;

The apron and the mitt the tale did bely.

 

A roar of laughter sprung from their guts

At the expense of this silly ole dumb klutz.

 

The smile this evokes when I remember

My apron and mitt became an ember

On Thanksgiving Holiday that November.

© Mel Patterson, 11-10-11