The Gift of Not Giving – A Poem

Little blue

Clouds still wreath you

Sapling cry


Broken green

Fragile glass gleam

How I remember


Shouting red

I loved you then

If only for your need


Lost Maroon

I would have adopted you

In a heartbeat


Aquamarine

What kind of father would I have been

You may not have grown but I spent receding


Burnt Umber

You might be only a jade asunder

Not loved for itself but for trade


Coal Black

I smile as you go

Weep as I turn back


Little blue

Perhaps I could have made you

Believe that you were rising


Broken green

Even though it was me

Sinking


Shouting red

Perhaps we are level yet

I stoop to feed while you reach


Lost maroon

Now the place you used

To eat is empty


Aquamarine

It still knows, still sees

You are hungry


Burnt Umber

I leave with this nothing slumber

My gift to you is not to give


Coal Black

I smile as you go

Weep as I turn back

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4 thoughts on “The Gift of Not Giving – A Poem

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  1. “My gift to you is not to give” This line has inspired my poem, “The Giving Game.” I call this “Borrowed Poetry,” and like that we, poets, can pass inspiration back and forth. I like this poem for it sits in my mind like something I know but need to remember. hugs, pat

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