The Gift
written by: Gail Constable
Icy air in my lungs,
Frozen fingers and
Toes, rosy red cheeks
Hunting among the
Lot for the perfect
One.
Standing in my
Livingroom, the
Tree spreads green
Arms, smelling of
Fresh pine, strung
With lights.
Boxes of decorations
Dragged from the
Dusty attic, slowly
Opened to display
Ten years of
Fragile ornaments.
Each one I hung had
A memory of you,
Laughing, smiling,
As I picked up the
Next one, I began to
Practice forgiveness.
For lying, not
Loving me truly,
Leaving for her,
All the pain,
Tears fall but you
Have my forgiveness.
In the spirit of the
Season, with the
Star on top of the
Tree, I also gave
To myself the gift
Of forgiveness
And of love.
Gail Constable is a published poet. Besides her passion for words, she is a vocalist with a love for music from opera to rock, mother, grandmother and loving friend. Gail claims to not write so much as have her poetry written through her, with a muse who draws inspiration from people, nature and life. Gail currently lives on beautiful Cape Breton Island in Canada.
Latest posts by Gail Constable (see all)
- Progress - October 15, 2024
- Spotlight On Writers – Gail Constable - July 27, 2024
- Time Travel in Sound - July 4, 2024
