The Joy of Giving
Be it no more than just a glass of water,
A live walking stick played by a kind daughter
To a blind man whose walk is a vague totter.
Or quality time spent with someone old,
A blanket’s warm fold in times forlorn, cold,
In times of need a ready shoulder-hold.
A pair of slippers to feet walking bare,
Not in loud charity to show you care,
Heart-born feelings so felt drowning false air.
Anything— given short of counting ways,
Given to brighten up sinking heart’s greys,
To lighten load that too heavily weighs.
Give it in cash if it can’t be in kind,
Let it a gift of heart be, well inclined,
A gift of very soul, body and mind.
Give— the only joy greater than getting
Be the joy of giving and forgetting,
Helping in autumn times to invoke spring.
_____________________________________
Musings | 07.08.09 |
Poet's note: This poem is not a triolet, nor can it be called a Terza Rima. It can be a tercet, each stanza being of three lines, but this is not the option available.... Thanks PoetrySoup.com, Tercet is now available as an option, and I'm glad to call the poem Tercet, not Triolet (Jan 2025).
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