Give Her…

As the days counted down
To Christmas,
He grew
More and more
Anxious.

He needed the
Perfect gift,
For the most
Important,
Perfect person,
In his life.

This woman.

She…

Was the only thing
That mattered
To him.

Strong,
Resolute,
Edgy,
Sexy.

The consummate challenge…

The elegant lover…

The perfect partner.

But what to give her…
The most beautiful,
Exquisite
Woman he had ever known…

And the one
With whom
He had fallen
Hopelessly
In love with…
So many years ago.

On a peaceful
Winter weekend morning,
As the sun rose,
Chasing chill from
The crisp dawn,

He sat…
Mug of hot,
Black coffee
In hand,
Still unsure of his gift.

But something
Urged him
To step out
Into that cold,
Exhilarative,
December day,

And so he did.

Listening,
Looking,
Observing,
The simple,
Beautiful,
Morning song
Began playing for him.

Chickadees, cardinals, finch
All chatted
As they
Labored for their breakfast.

The tawny, striped,
Fleeting chipmunk
Made his rounds too,
Foraging through the leaves,
Oblivious to the gossip
Of his feathered friends.

And somewhere,
High above,
The geese,
Conversing,
Reviewed the flight path
To their next destination.

This brisk,
Graceful,
Simple,
Snapshot of life…
The perfectly orchestrated morning song…

Opened him.

In that moment
Of clarity,
He realized that
He could give her
All the material things
To make her life
Complete,
And satisfy
Her needs…

That he would do.

But what was made
Manifest to him
On this peaceful morning
Was that his gift needed
To be more than
The material.

He needed not only
To give her things…

He needed to look
Into her beautiful,
Lustrous,
Dark eyes,
Hold both her hands in his

And profess…

“Here I am…

Waiting, and willing,

To hold you…

To help you…

To serve you…

For you.

For us.

Forever.

This is my gift…

The true gift

From my heart.

Merry Christmas, my love.”

 

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

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