I remember the Christmas
we gave you the tent
joy rising in your face
like dawn
as you tore open the shiny box
the curly ribbons,
and I wish so much it makes
my heart ache
that I could give you, again,
that perfect thing
something big and exactly right
or, failing that,
some gift from my own hands
long in the making
even, say, a sweater you wouldn't
be caught dead in
but I bet you'd wear it anyway
now that you, too,
have children who are grown and flown
and you, too, know
this clueless but still undimmed urge
to give delight, to cherish.
Happy Birthday by Florence Nash | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
