By Christine Swanberg
Author and Poet
The holiday season is a time of giving. Yet, so much that is given isn’t purchasable.
This poem’s title is a play on the word “given.” Cleo Johnson manages to capture what many people have experienced. Now a retired teacher, Cleo is a Mom, a Grandmother, a world traveler, a bicyclist and member of Tuesday Writers.
I gave you all I had to give
I protected you from the storm
I closed the windows, put wood on the fire
And laid you down to sleep.
I sent you to play and explore
I gave you tools with which to work
I showed you where to use them
And how to make them ease your tasks.
I sent you off to examine the world
I told you what to watch for
I encouraged you to face each storm
And let nothing stand in your way.
You did your thing in a beautiful way
You gave of yourself and helped who you could
You attempted all that crossed your path
And there was little you did not dare to do.
Now it is you and maybe one you could love
Who helps you sing, play and watch the weather
Who knows another way around the storm
And gives you all there is to give.
From the Dec. 15-21, 2010 issue