Five (Poetry)
04th August 2006
Five lumps concealed in an old pillowcase
well-fingered in the chill December dawn -
four sharp-cornered, one that's cushion-soft,
paper crackles, string-tied labels snag.
She doesn't open, doesn't need to check
the Cadbury's Selection Box or set
of three swiss linen hankerchiefs sent
by an aunt she can't remember having met.
Still wrapped, the chunky home-made cardigan,
brick-red for winter comfort and too big,
the Girl's Own Annual stiff and so correct,
the shuffling jigsaw telling what it is.
No surprises, nothing left to guess,
she saves her dreams of other gifts than these,
and picks at edges, careful to pretend
she's grateful, concentrates on looking pleased.
well-fingered in the chill December dawn -
four sharp-cornered, one that's cushion-soft,
paper crackles, string-tied labels snag.
She doesn't open, doesn't need to check
the Cadbury's Selection Box or set
of three swiss linen hankerchiefs sent
by an aunt she can't remember having met.
Still wrapped, the chunky home-made cardigan,
brick-red for winter comfort and too big,
the Girl's Own Annual stiff and so correct,
the shuffling jigsaw telling what it is.
No surprises, nothing left to guess,
she saves her dreams of other gifts than these,
and picks at edges, careful to pretend
she's grateful, concentrates on looking pleased.