The Gift Book

(To J. R.)

A book is a kindly gracious thing. Each has a particular gift to bring.

It may be the wealth Of a wonderful life, Or the thrilling adventure Of Jungle strife. Perhaps it’s a present Of orient gold, Tales of Aladdin Enchantingly told. Maybe a view Of olden days, Knighthood--Romance, Flowery ways. And again a journey To lands afar, Where strange things happen, And wonders are.

All of them--Gift books But plainly I see, Not one of them holds The gift for me. I want a book That will lazily roam Down the dear Pathway To Folks back home.