Past is present

Thanksgiving brings an olive branch to seasons
of mindless shopping to fill a hollow day
with thoughtless gifts bought for unknown reasons,
replacing words we’ve never learned to say.

Before Santa Claus starts the yearly swindle,
my past becomes a present in my mind;
as my remaining years begin to dwindle,
I’m grateful for the days I’ve left behind.

This was meant to connect the first two octaves inspired by a Paint Chip prompt, as impossible as returning to the past. “Swindle” was the Word of the Day.

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