Poetry

The Gift

It lays before me
its been there twenty-four hours
wrapped in pretty pink paper
with a bow and a note that said
"I love you dear, and I always will"

It was probably just written
in a couple of seconds
as he left for work,
and the gifts probably nothing special,
perhaps just another pot or a sausepan
or perhaps some more of those fishing videos
that I pretended to enjoy to make him happy.

I dont know,
but I cant bring myself to open it.
Not while the tears are so fresh...

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