Written so many years ago for another person and yet it is a reminder that there are some things we are forced to relive.
The Gift
If I come to you,
And stand before your door,
Don't ask me why I don't enter.
Don't even let me know you're inside.
I need to realize you're not there
So that I can turn and leave.
If I loved you once,
Then it is my fault.
If I loved you long,
It was not long enough.
But the fault there was not mine.
I offered much but was allowed to keep my gift.
It rots in my hands and soils my heart.
It is the one gift
That once given
We must not give;
That once taken
We must receive.
Why is the punishment the same
For those who will not give
As those who will not be received of;
For those who will not take
As those who are not offered?
Goodbye.
1 comment:
Relive we do ... over and over again.
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