I'm Not Above Regifting - Poem

I’m Not Above Regifting

I’m assembling a gift for a poet

Books with other’s words

That remind me of…

That are like a…

To inspire, support and show that hers equal and surpass the other’s published works.

I’m not above regifting

I’m happy to buy used, I mean, aren’t words always reused?

Pulling one from the shelf, the flyleaf held a note in red pen saying the poems by the Buddhist monk were sent in peace and love, with a smiley face.

A card fell out from somewhere in the middle from another long ago love. 
How strange to find it. I don't remember it. 

He looked to me with love, he said. I made a smiley face. I did remember how that felt.

He’d filled the void left by the red penning smiley face drawer.

Only for awhile. I thought.

And yet, those old words reminded me

That books and cards with loving notes are like a coffee in the afternoon before an evening out, or 

Like a crimson dot in Mr. Turner’s sea, or

Like a lesson in using brown, red or sweet onions or a leek.

Used, reused and now regifted.

Mary Longe

November 16, 2016

Painting: The Bookstore at the Clearing

Artist: Mary Longe

11x14" Oil

Ellison Bay, WI

November 1, 2016 

Mary Longe

mary.longe@gmail.com

Available