The Gift
It was always this way at Christmas…
Does he open my gift first
Or do I pull the wrapping from his?
Will I love what he’s given me?
The only true promise of harmony
Was allowing the wrappings to be ripped off
At nearly the same time
Will I love what he’s given me?
When the gift was there, ascertained
Established as the year’s best guess of a wish
That only the wisher could truly discern
Is this gift truly a dream wish, a fantasy, a miracle
Or is it only the hidden wisdom behind kind eyes
Will I love what he’s given me?
Will either of us ever know, for certain, that our gift
Was the answer to the other’s hopeful expression?
Will either of us ever give the gift and know it is the one
That will go down in history as the “One”!!!
Will I love what he’s given me?
Then, with all thoughts of wrapping paper and bows past,
A single clear laugh from a child vibrates through the house
Ringing out the gift that will forever remain the “One”
I love what he’s given me!!!!
Written on August 28th, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
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