By Paul E. Schindler, Jr.
It was forty years ago you see.
When I found out amazingly
Her I’d picked out for my mate
Put my heart on a silver plate.
Cared for mine just like her own,
Never abused, just held on loan,
Never tried to give it back,
Never caused a break or crack.
Still she holds it to this day.
So I would just like to say
Gifts you freely gave to me,
That I hadn’t had before,
From the others I’d adored.
It’s amazing can’t you see
What your gifts have meant to me.
No one ever forced you to,
They’re just things you chose to do.
I find it hard to just obey
When you say what I can’t say:
How saintly you appear to me.
I’m not a saint I hear your plea.
So saint’s a word I must not use
And yet I fear I must refuse
Instead I praise you to the skies
For love you give in any guise.
Hug and kiss and dulcet tone,
All are meant for me alone.
I’m so grateful don’t you know
For the way these gifts doth flow.