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Poetry: The Giver
The Giver I ponder thee, but I cannot know, What giant debt can it be that you owe? Of what I speak, you may not even know, My words, here now, I intend to show, Always you give, never you take, Enough you donate, average soul it would break, Given away with each smile, every hand that you shake, You calm others down, eliminate any ache, So, again I ask, what price must you pay? I know that you must owe much, and for you I pray, Can you persist in your giving, never wavering a day? It seems that you might, for here you continue to stay, Perhaps I am wrong, you truly owe nothing, Yet still you expend, what can you be thinking? Oh, finally I see, your giving, to you, joy it does bring, Still request you no money, no jewelry nor ring, Rare you are, such a generous heart, Spreading joy, to you, is an exquisite art, Equal to you is not upon map, nor upon chart, In the hearts of your friends, you are, the warmest part. |
