A Present

I get this thought, no less than seldom
that sooner that later, that day would come
like many a years in the past
lives the memory of a present last

wrapped in silk and perfumes
sprinkled with dust from magic dunes
wash those tears into a box
all cobwebs hidden behind locks

and nightmares all, just send across
along with memories of pain and loss
because what more could a present be
than your sweet, gladness and glee

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