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Thursday, 1 October 2015

The Gift

He had promised her the moon,
it was one he wished to keep;
as his patter and his vanities
had landed him in trouble deep

At first he tried to net it,
the light, it just filtered through;
his aim was bang on target
but the moon, would not be harpooned

At a loss for what to do,
he called, then, upon the stars;
he begged them to surround it
but they ignored him from afar

Grandiose heroic plans
were mostly well intended;
though blatantly ill-equipped
unimpressed was his intended

He knew if, now, defeated
she would never trust again;
with his energy depleted
oh how could he, the moon, contain?

Then a wise old owl flew by
enquired "what, sir, is your woe"
he explained his dilemma
and how his love was sure to go

After some contemplation
the owl benignly chastised;
"fool, you've the moon already,
I see her shining in your eyes"

"If you want to give her the moon
then it's yourself, that you must give;
wholly and unselfishly
for only there can, true, love live"

So that eve he took his love
to a spot beside the lake;
and with moon-eyes he pledged true love
then, forever-plans they did make

The morale of this poem
is that love is not possessed
it shines within our actions
an unconditional bequest

© Debbie Razey 2016 (revisited)