The Gift

Its dips and planes and curves that rose,
To crab like claws that vainly strove
To find a parabolic base
Which foundered suddenly to trace
Vague paths through non-existent hole,
Down which they quick and smoothly stole.

This gift she gave with pride and love,
Inspired perhaps by heaven above.
Carved and polished by herself
Has sat for years upon my shelf,
And yet it grieves me so because
I've never known just what it was.

.. That might have been the final line
To bring a smile, but not this time.
This time I also want to say
The gift she gave to me that day,
Is my most precious work of art
And carves her place deep in my heart.