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A Gift
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January 2003 Poetry Happy birthday baby.
Come on inside,
I want to give you something.
Follow the candles upstairs.
Your gift is waiting.
It’s not diamonds or gold,
money or silver.
I give you me,
mixed with a little strawberries,
atop a cushion of dreams,
covered with rose petals.
Do what you want to me,
I’m yours.
Happy birthday baby.
~*~ Jill ~*~
hey....you wrote this poem a day after my bday so i can relate!!!*giggle*