The gift

Let me give you the gift of myself.
You can feel the shape of me through my wrapping
Hold me up to the light, perhaps give a little shake.
Why don't you test the weight and balance of me?
Or hold me close to your face and take in the smell?
Then untie a ribbon, undo a button, and discover me.

You pause with your hands resting on me,
And savour the moment, smiling into the distance.
Then you peel back a little of the wrapping and
Glimpse a corner of the gift that is me.
Smiling again, your fingers trace over the outline of the package
Before moving to the other end and peeling back
Another edge of the wrapper.

You tilt your head and lean a little closer
To see what is revealed. I become impatient
And rustle in my wrapper.
You drop a kiss on me and ask me to wait
Because you are enjoying this so much.
Your fingers trace along one edge and then you turn
The package over to undo the ribbon.
You concentrate on the tight knot
While I lie impatiently still.

You pick and tease at it until
At last! the knot loosens, the ribbon uncoils,
Falls away and allows the wrapping paper to open.
You smooth it out and take me in at a glance.
Your hands are on me and your delighted smile says
That you like me as much as you thought you would
... And as much as I hoped you might.

Here you can hear me read this poem.

One of my readers said --

"The Gift" gave me shivers. What gorgeous sensuality!
I'm not sure I've ever read a poem in which
I have felt like such a participant.
Wonderful.

Vince

Another reader said --

I found this piece to be extremely erotic. The metaphor is transparent enough for anyone to take hold of it immediately, yet the idea is original enough to be arresting.

The poem leads one slowly through the process of its lovemaking counterpart, just as the act itself should often be prolonged to sweeten the process. The reader wants to savor it, and the speaker, making analogy to the unwrapping of a present, calls attention to her own desirability with modesty, and yet intimation of delight. Who could not like this piece?

Bob