The Gift ©
For my beautiful wife Jackie on our fortieth anniversary
Thomas Matthew Edgar
Standing by the back step,
near a bush beside the door,
the statuette I bought that day
when you were twenty four.
A flowering vine surrounds her,
there's daisies round her feet.
She holds a puppy in her arms;
the picture looks complete.
Where we now show the signs of age,
a long time past our prime,
our statuette looks much the same,
an image locked in time.
It seems she's taken on a life,
a life of her very own,
this little present that I bought,
this statue made of stone.
Perhaps the love I felt that day
has left us with a sign.
Perhaps my gift, in some strange way,
clothed in a flowering vine,
is trying to tell us something,
a sign to us alone
that true love in its purest form
can breathe life into stone.