love, Poetry

The greatest gift

It’s not the pile of presents
underneath the tree
from a manic panic last
minute shopping spree,
or the frosted glass
on fancy window panes
outside restaurants with
unpronounceable names,
it’s not wrapped up
in the glamour and glitz
of penthouse parties
rocking the Ritz,
it’s not champange
nor whisky nor wine,
it’s not really yours
nor is it mine.

The greatest gift, I still do find
is with you, a little more time.

Merry Christmas!

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