The Gift 
One dark night a candle 
barely lit because of storms 
melted nonetheless until 
its wick had lost its form. 
The Child came (in some dismay) 
and took the wick away. 
Yet, to my surprise, a light 
still shined till night was day. 
I sat down to make a note 
(for miracles are rare here) 
and He grew a little coat 
and He launched a little boat 
and He lifted one small hand 
(making light of cold and land). 
Some dared not to touch His sandal. 
(One blessed night, I lost a candle!)
A. Michele Leslie is a poet and playwright who lives in Minneapolis with her husband, David, and two cats.
A gift indeed! Nice flow to this great visual. Enjoyable reading...
ReplyDeleteRhoda
Delightful! More people must read your work! Thanks for the share, ralph.
ReplyDeleteDear Michele,
ReplyDeleteThanks for this poem of hope. I love your gentle touch in form and meaning.
love,
Kathy