Birthday Gift

Give me the perfect birthday gift,

That I can unravel in solace,

The morning after you have departed,

Without the slightest trace.

The wrapping-paper bright as a gemstone,

The ribbon smooth as velvet-silk,

The address complete and sweet as ever,

And not a mere cursory word to my ilk.

The insides cushioned with foam,

The gift betokened in a box.

The box of cardboard, wood, or marble,

Each a notch better, but stay away from glass.

So I take my cutter, seize my scissors,

Place the address under a paper-weight,

Gently unwrap your efforts with an effort,

To equal your ablutions great.

As the cutter gently penetrates the seams and tapes,

I feel my curiosity surging, my heart pounding,

And la! There's the brown cardboard box,

Neatly sealed to prolong my hopes, hold my dreams aloft.

Then I gently cut through the packaging, preserving every piece,

Discover a bubble-wrap but let the inevitable temptation abate,

Rub my hands, pat myself over my recent handiwork,

And there, brandished from its sheath, I do behold, my little package of faith.

My little package of faith, it truly is, a void of empty space,

Of all that you could entrust me with, you chose willingly faith,

For I value what you give, I open it with care, but when left threadbare,

My materialistic greed can also be defeated with the very faith.

Do I smile? I can't, my heart flutters in despair,

Do I cry? I can't, you gave me a gift, to whom can I repair?

Do I grudge you? I can't, you made no promises.

Do I curse myself? I can't, for my intuition made the surmises.

So what do I do? I preserve the gift paper, tape, address,

Stow them away with deep regret.

And try to forget, but unwittingly recall,

The very moment I could never wish to stall.

Birthday Gift, what were you? A reminder that I didn't need you?

Birthday Gift, where were you? In my fancy dancing freely?

Birthday Gift, how were you? Basking in your triumph?

Birthday Gift, why were you? Ever conjured up in my dreams?

Tomorrow comes, no stockings to hang,

The other gifts have been opened with a bang.

But they are inconsequential, because I treasure just yours, dear friend,

For you always give me one that no one else could intend.

And this year too! I laugh, it's actually amusing..

Amusing.. ingenious... innovative...Ring!

That's the doorbell go, I swing the door open,

And before me sits, your real and true token.

The mail has arrived, your name signed on a carelessly wrapped cellophane,

Covering a Do-It-Yourself Kit, for Ages Above 10,

I snatch it away, thank absently, prize the cellophane open,

Scratch the last bits out, fairly tearing the covering open.

And there, as mocking as ever, is a broken glass mold,

A broken glass trinket, shatters of what was sold.

And in these pieces, though separate, I find almost perfect, the collage of my face.

I read my disappointment, I read my anger, despair,

I read also, a note, scribbled, continuing to stare.

"Dear friend, I knew your caution and care,

When it comes to gifts, so I didn't think it vital to warn you.

Enjoy this present, though late in arriving."

My eyes well up with tears, but what is there to do?

So for solidarity's sake, I place gift box inside gift box.

I feel much more than that empty box had presented me with.

Wasn't there now too, a void, in materialistic terms,

But was it, in essence, when I had recognized your good intents?

I had scolded myself for harboring doubts, scoffed at my own distrust,

Walked through my evening of resentment, disappointment, astonishment,

Which had all faded to repentance, of a material loss.

But encoded within that superficial loss, the repentance of,

My avarice, self-satisfaction, which had betrayed all venerable sentiments,

That friend must harbor for friend, like I believed I did.

So that void had vanished!!! It was now diluted by a mixture of,

Sentiments pleasurable and reassuring, as well as sad and morose,

Both gifts had enlightened me, your haste, touched me,

And mingled satisfaction with that existent trust.

So give me any Birthday Gift, my friend,

And I will open it with care,

Whether empty or clamoring,

To its sides without a care!!