After the feast, the table’s clear, Yet leftovers linger, bringing cheer. I thought I’d never eat again, But hunger returned, as it always does then.
The turkey, the pie, the cranberry spread, Flavors dance anew, though the meal’s long fled. Somehow, they seem to taste better this time, As if patience has seasoned them, oh so sublime.
Imagination turns scraps into treasure, A casserole here, a soup beyond measure. Thank You, Lord, for abundance and grace, For meals reborn, no morsel a waste.
So here’s to leftovers, a second delight, A testament to blessings, day and night.