We're given a gift so good and pure,
It makes the heart so warm and glad,
With it one can never be sad.
It's simple and overlooked,
Yet we look upon it so much,
We probe it with a gentle touch.
Frustrated that we have no luck,
In finding what it means in whole,
Our curiousity an endless pull.
Sometimes all it takes is waiting,
The only way to find it is sitting and wanting it to come to you,
Yet we never know when it hits until one becomes true.
I'm sure you all have figured it by now,
But if you haven't, it comes from above,
It is simply the gift of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one was one of those off the top of my head ones. Hope you like it. =^.^= I always appreciate CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISM. That means, what can I do to improve in a *POLITE* way. Thanks.