Gift

Christmas was upon them
And just as in years before
She expected that all they’d pass between them
Were wishes and hopes for more

More happiness in her life
More joy and peace as well
In his more fulfilled moments that
Would make his heart just swell

They’d found themselves in places where
Material things weren’t needed
But where they both were lacking was
Where their heart’s cries were left unheeded

But this year something shifted
And he made a small request
One at first she wasn’t sure
Wasn’t just in jest

But the longer that she sat with it
And he poured out his heart
She saw the side she’d always known
Was something set apart

Like every man she’d ever known
He was strong and brave
The silent type, he would be called,
Knowing him was what she craved

And here he was before her
Asking for her favor
A little token of her heart
A something he would savor

He’d wanted one, he told her,
For quite a long, long while
But never said a thing before
For fears their friendship he’d defile

She couldn’t help but be herself
And think of what he wanted
The more she thought about it
The less that she felt daunted

She took her time preparing that which
Would make him smile (she prayed)
And fulfill his long unspoken wish
A special gift, hand made

She opened up that little pink box
Tied up with a little bow
She gave him what he’d asked for
And saw his face aglow


Bulbul’s Bubble original writing prompt for 26 days to foster hope and happiness.

To see other’s responses to this prompt, follow this link to today’s word prompt and see the comments for links to other participants’ writings.

3 thoughts on “Gift

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.