The Gift

You hold a delicate object in your hands.

A gift given freely, but carrying a price.

For some the cost was to great,

And so they give it back.

Each time it is returned to me,

Those in whose trust it had been placed kept a bit.

Some took great chunks, some only crumbs.

Never the less, my gift to you, all tattered and worn

Looks hardly worthy of your gentle care.

And yet you also have a gift

I cannot begin to fathom where you learned it.

You have the unique ability

To patch the tears and fill the empty spaces.

You've brought my dog-eared present back it life.

You hold a precious gift in your hands.

A gift given freely and with my love.

Will you accept its price my dear,

If the object you hold is my heart?

By Laura Buscher~12/13/96