And pizza, muffins, Cheerios
With zest they are attacked
And left are only matzah crumbs
Perhaps a box or two
Of matzah meal (if you do bruck)
And some Pesach dish, once new
That you decided, let’s just keep
This dish for the whole year
We’ll get another one, I’m sure
‘Cause this one is so dear
I looked around my dining room
For signs that Pesach was
And I see nothing left to say
This room was once abuzz
The tablecloth
Bereft of wines
Haggados put away
Kids’ voices stilled
Not screaming
“Please, I want to say!”
It’s quiet as they now have gone
Where they do live all year
It’s great at least that for eight days
They brought their children here
And what do we have
In its wake
Much more than memories
That fly away like crumpled leaves
When comes along a breeze
The joy, the praise
The lessons learned
Become part of our essence
If we enjoy the Yom Tov right
And glean from its great lessons
Of course the tape is off the doors
And chometz is resold
But nothing changes if we have
The stories that were told
For every Peasch
That goes by
Forges our emunah
And does ensure
If we believe
Moshiach will come sooner
