The Last Present
 
Before he died
He bought and wrapped
This present
It sits in my cupboard
The snowmen have
Waved many summers
Away now
And still
I can not
Bring myself
To unwrap
This last present.
 
She told me this
And I did not laugh
Did not entice
Her to unwrap
But wished that
I too had
A last present  
To cherish
And not unwrap
 
Two decades later
I reached  into
The cupboard
That holds
Only memories
And found
Eighteen years
Left unwrapped
And started
To peep
Till two years dropped
And now I pull
At the paper
Of the sixteen.
And wonder
If one day
I wish
I hadn’t.


* Sonia Jarema says "I am an allotmenteer living on the edge of London, finally letting the air get to my writing."