The Gift - Exploring Brokenness: Poetry on Pain, Anger, and Human Flaws

The Gift

I remember the day I came to you with
Gift in hand, but it wasn’t good enough,
Didn’t compliment what you already found
Familiar. I remember the look on your face
When I had the temerity to suggest that
The gift was something quite valuable and
Precious. No acts of naive courtesy permitted,
No souvenir from unvisited lands featuring
Swaying palm trees and beaming bathers.
I remember how you turned away.

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Poetry by Guy Farmer