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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required She sat in her little cottage Her ears tuned Her body alive Waiting… Waiting for that knock on the door Anytime now She pulled back the frilly curtains And peered out at the gathering dusk The time when most of her visitors Would knock at her door Looking for word gifts To fill up their souls It was the third day… It was the third night… And she kept her vigil With her candle lit To ward off the loneliness That was creeping in on her She fought it away Repositioning the candle To make sure that its light Would be a welcome sight To her longed for visitors Only one thing worried her What would she offer them as presents? She had nothing to give And this was the custom In these parts The tradition The giving and getting of word presents That's why she had moved here She fondly fingered on of the presents Given to her By one of her most cherished visitors A token of love and friendship Of constancy And yet…. Where was he? Now when she was destitute Now when she was dry With no gifts to offer She had been forgotten by them all Forgotten by him She fought back the tears Willing to believe The candle flickered and died out The moonlight Filtered in through her window Comforting her with its magical Dream formations On her wooden floor She sighed She had given all that she had Did they love her only for her gifts? Could they not just reopen her gifts and look inside? If not that…what about the other unopened ones The older ones The ones that she had shyly left Outside their doors When she had newly moved in And was yet unknown Once one of them had opened a gift The news had spread That there was someone new in the area With word gifts to give Some were crude But others were beautiful With her own distinctive design All wrapped with her love Each scented by her perfume Her signature scent Now she was poor No gifts No perfume No words Empty.... Why didn't they come to visit? Why didn't they open the ones of long ago That still lay around their homes…unopened She brushed away a tear Perhaps she’d been forgotten Perhaps she just wasn’t good enough For this part of the country She decided On the morrow She would leave Though it would make her heart bleed But wait… A faint knock on the door A familiar knock She sprang to her feet And swung upon the door There he stood A smile on his face “I haven’t seen you for a while Your gifts used to bring me a smile Sorry it’s late I just couldn't wait To tell you… I found the unopened gift It still bore your scent It reminded me of you The beauty of your soul And how you make me whole Here I am… Here I am to tell you I’ve missed your gifts But more than that… I’ve missed the giver!” With tears streaming down But a smile on her face She took his hand And led him inside The home of her heart For a nice long sweet visit With one of her favorite Giver of gifts! Eileen Manassian Ghali
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