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Post-Pesach Musing

In hours all that work is gone

The counters reappear

And put away are all the stuff

That comes out once a year

The foil of aluminum

Are crushed into a ball

The plastic covers or the wood

Are locked into a stall

And all the dishes put away
The Pesach cupboard packed

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