The Gift

There is nothing I want that money can buy. They ask what gifts I'd like for Christmas. I tell them none. Surely there is something? They intently pursue, And with a shake of the head, I stubbornly reject. For there is nothing in this world, No objects, no reward, That can amount to my deepest desires. A love I can hold, golden and pure as it embraces my heart, The shadows of heartache and distance exposed of- A mental gift jewels of the finest could not compare. I wait, Hopeful that the person able to give me such a gift, Sweeps me off my feet on that Christmas Eve, Scoffing at the rejected dollar sat in the embers of the fireplace.