The Gift

By Gaurav Parab

Legs giving in, a box in his hands

Held together by weak colored bands

It feels too small to be a book about love

Yet too big to be a golfer’s glove.

Elegantly shaped, tastefully designed

The wrapper hiding what he will soon find

Left at his door when he was away

Maybe she did not find a reason to stay

Or maybe the key to her heart stays inside

Coming out when those ribbons get untied

Maybe it is a simple memento between friends

An occasion to simply make amends

Do not open it till I am gone

You may see it an hour after dawn

 He looks at his watch and shakes his head

Maybe it’s a clock to keep besides his bed

Could it be another pint sized God?

The songs she sang inside an ipod

A little bulb to light up his dark room?

He shakes it to see if it’s a perfume

He is faithful to the promise invoked

Unlike the hundreds he unfaithfully broke

As the Sun reluctantly nods his head

He sits down to steady himself on her bed

His hands shake while his eyes are steady

Some part unwilling, some part of him ready

As the last thread untangles itself

He keeps the unopened gift back on the shelf

Every day he looks at the gift with curious surprise

As tears escape his indifferent eyes