I give to you these trifling things,
light from life, love and age,
diverse experiences distilled
and patterned upon the page.
Are they only wisps of breath?
Distillations of the chest?
Essence of love, joy, hope or pain
dripping forth before I rest?
Are they lighter than thistledown?
Little more than seeming?
Are they the heart’s desire to search
for beauty and for meaning?
Some build tall towers or bridges.
My desire is just to sing,
so take these gifts I offer.
Are they merely trifling things?
First published in April Verse Virtual.