The Present Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

It was a beautiful day as Sarah knitted.
She was making a sweater to be fitted.
She had in mind to make it as a gift.
It was for her boyfriend Bill’s benefit.

The needles flew at a rapid clip.
With loving care, they did not slip.
The day of presentation was near.
It was almost ready for her dear.

In party colors it was wrapped.
Being fatigued, Sarah took a nap.
The balloons were brightly floating
And the cake had a sweet coating.

'Happy Birthday, ' was the celebrated song.
It seemed that nothing could go wrong.
Bill opened gifts with oohs and ahhhs.
It was an event with lots of hoopla.

Finally the unique sweater was released.
Would relentless praises ever cease?
'Try it on, ' was the request of the day.
'Okay, ' Bill replied. What else could he say?

Much to his disappointment, it was too small.
The sleeves were short and the neck, too tall.
It was a disaster and Sarah was mortified.
She stood speechless and was petrified.

The room fell silent and was very still.
What would the misfit do to poor Bill?
He pulled a strand and wound it into a ball.
'The love I hold in my hand, is best of all.'