Poem: Gifts

Gifts
Kirk Wil­son

I kept my life in a small room
with pale blue walls
and brought it back
lit­tle presents from the world

This is for you I would say
This is for you

Some­times the gifts
died in my hands
and often I could not pay
the price of their redemption

I could nev­er be sure
they were appre­ci­at­ed or how much
they want­ed to be in the place
where I had brought them

The room filled with less and less
space to breathe so instead of gifts
I began to bring stories
that did not end but slipped away
around cor­ners and over horizons

I brought premonitions
and resis­tance to clo­sure and left
at the end of each day
look­ing for more

Cyn is a proud Mommy & Mémé, professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
Posts created 4241

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Related Posts

Begin typing your search term above and press enter to search. Press ESC to cancel.

Back To Top