Each year
again the gifts are given gladly,
Perhaps because one wants to be a gift.
In goods there can be good, yet sometimes, sadly,
People get the thing but not the drift.
How could the wise men come without a token,
A gift to give the child, new born a king?
Nor could their words speak as their gifts had
spoken,
Yielding love incarnate in a
thing.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.