fight for your happiness

Gifts

And I am just this humble shell for you. A dry and brittle thing. No light or glory or music fair, no grace nor form divine. A humble leaf dear, not a bloom. A tune hummed in the still of the dawn, not a maestro’s song. A chalk scratching on the wall, not a framed wonder at the Louvre. All my slight comforts , dear, my soft stems, my simple melody, my colors, all I have to give, are yours.