A gift

Shiny globes strung together to decorate

a Christmas spirit; mere baubles,

but I wanted them.


My mother loved them, too,

so I bought them for her, and,

whether out of guilt or generosity,


she said it was the right way around,

because one day they would be mine,

so it was as if I were giving them to myself


(which seemed at the time both rude

and beside the point).


Still, when all was said and done

and the heat of summer was at its height,

it turned out she was right.

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1 Response to A gift

  1. Beautiful poem for your mother and you. Blessings, Ellen

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