The Gift

Lying together, the summer’s edge
‘It’s a gift’ she said, ‘for you’
placing carefully in my hand
I looked down, confused,
then explained the date
a wash of feelings, in a wave
burst to break through
as any act of kindness, worse
when unexpected
‘Are you crying?’ denied,
a weakness strangely prized
by sensitive types, but
from my side of the tracks
the face you try to hide
self preservation, common sense
call it what you will….

She touched my skin
‘What’s this one mean?’
teasing, knowing full well
it was ours, the hidden heart
then ventured lower, guiding my hand
‘this one’s for you too’, and giggled
in that lovely, natural way,
only girls, like her, could

Looking back now, no place for emotion,
the smallest view, cross barred, of broken glass
not hard to say ‘those days were the best’,
the last of the child in her, although
mine grew up long before
an alley between blocks, overgrown,
the stranger’s threat, sliced between
pressed right home, the babbling brook
his mouth becomes, and her first lesson,
my gift, a future, wiped clean

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

By cyncoed

Old & Welsh

2 replies on “The Gift”

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