I thought of a token
weightless to mail,
on account of the postage -
but need I explain?
Something to open
when you feel blue,
when the cares of the cosmos
weigh heavy on you.
I know this is foolish -
impractical too - you can't
eat or drink it, or taste
it at all. It has no aroma,
no colours to speak of -
it's light as a feather
and terribly small.
And yet you can roll it up
into a ball, and bounce it,
or toss it from ceiling
to wall. It's a word, any word
that you want it to be -
rain perhaps; rainbow;
a bird in a tree;
a bright mote of stardust,
a glass of champagne;
a walk on the shore
where the sea tells its tale…
Open it carefully:
here's the surprise,
this gift can become
anything you desire.
There's no need to tell me -
your soul holds the key,
an image in mirrors
that you alone see...
A Gift
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103041900473
Свидетельство о публикации №103041900473
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