There’s something I’d like to give you
And I hope you don’t mind if I do,
Something you can put in your pocket,
Or slip right into your shoe,
Something that’s very small, betokening me.
Cost: none. Yet, costly.
And there’s nothing I’d like to give you
More than this here.
It is warm, but could disappear.
It is thoughtful, yet has no thought.
It wasn’t sold, and will never be bought.
In my heart’s chemistry it was wrought.
You can wear it around your neck,
The loveliness of your neck.
It will be happy beside your heart,
Any part of you, I expect.
It weighs nothing, it is nothing,
It is everything, for it has no part.
You gave it to me when we met.
It is the look I won’t forget.
It is the giving that is most giving
Because it is you, quietly living.
It is my heart on yours,
Murmuring, as when distantly, the sea roars.
It is the grain of sand I took in my hand
When sea confessed its love for the land.
You will give it back to me;
I know you will—eternally.
It is the stark radiance of the moon.
It is the whisper of a melancholy, yet tuneful, tune.
It is the light that gleamed in my head
When every landscape was dark and dead.
It is the waiting we did
When hope left us, and the gift hid.

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