Poetry

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Your Gift
You gave me a gift.
Your gift
I called it rubbish
For it was wrapped in paper
Old, dusty paper.

It seemed to me that it was an after thought
Yes,
For if you thought of it –the gift
Or of me – Your ‘jewel’
Surely You would,
Could,
Should have done better.

But no- You didn’t
So I left ‘Your gift’ in a corner
Ignored and abandoned
Left to decay.

Then I could not
Continue to ignore
For I see the gift
You gave others
Wrapped in sparkly
Beautiful wrappers

I was curious
So I opened mine
At first I was not surprised
Your gift seemed plain
And uninteresting

But I continued to unwrap
I catch a glimpse
A sparkle
Hard as a rock
Could it be a diamond?
I wonder

But from what I can see
I am grateful
For the gift in dirty paper
‘Your gift’

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