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


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


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


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


The world is insane and I'm in writing therapy!

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Posted in Poetry
4 comments on “The Gift of Not Giving – A Poem
  1. Pat Cegan says:

    “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

  2. mobius faith says:

    Nice colors. Especially “Lost Maroon” Which I originally read “moron” which carries a whole different meaning. Of course I’m the only moron here. 🙂

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