I’ll tell you of a story about a child’s love,
Not of adults’ mentality of push and shove.
I’ll tell you of a three-year-old daughter,
Of a sweet girl who filled the world with laughter.
I won’t tell you of depravity or lust.
I’ll tell you of innocence, a gift so just.
Of a daughter’s love unfailing,
Of her loving and unending travailing.
Now my tale I will most certainly speak,
I won’t be quiet and I won’t be meek.
The story goes that a long time ago,
A man yelled at his daughter a resounding “NO!”
For wasting wrapping paper when money was tight.
He yelled so much she began crying in fright,
“I was only making a gift for under the tree.
I did not want to make you mad at me.”
The father stalked away from the child.
The girl finished and placed it on the pile.
Slowly she crept to her bed and lay to sleep.
Little did her father know he had made her weep.
The next morning, the girl gave the gift to her father.
Ashamed at his previous actions, and rather
Embarrassed, he took the gold-wrapped package.
He exploded with anger like a savage.
“You can’t give someone a small box bereft
Of a present! The box must have something left
When the wrapping is gone and the box open.
Inside the gift you should find some kind of token.
The gift must contain something more than air,
Otherwise people will think you a liar and unfair!
The girl looked up with shining tear-filled eyes,
“Oh, Daddy! I thought you would see the surprise!
I blew kisses into the box, just for you.
All the time I was thinking about you, it’s true,
Presents for you and only you, beloved father.
I truly didn’t mean for them to be a bother.”
The father was quiet, his pride crushed.
He opened his arms and into them she rushed.
He hugged her tight and begged her forgiveness.
In his sweet daughter, he found no coldness.
She forgave him without a single thought,
For her spirit was heavy when they fought.
A few weeks later, the child left this earth.
An accident stole her from her place of birth.
Her laughter filled her father’s heart no more.
So beside his bed, the father kept the store
Of dear little imaginary kisses.
He would take them out and make wishes.
Wishes that his girl would come back to him.
Wishes that he had granted her little whims.
He would remember her innocent love.
He would remember she was like a gentle dove.
In a very real sense, each one of us
Has been given a precious gift of trust.
Each has been given a container filled with kisses,
Filled with unconditional love and wishes,
From our children, family, friends, and God.
In each box, you will find nothing flawed.
There is no possession anyone can hold,
More precious than this shining box of gold.
Each of us should hold this treasure close and dear,
For with it, we have nothing in this world to fear.
