a gift

i can only offer you a stanza
not much more ...
my letters are the guardians of all my possessions,
all my treasures in black and white ...
they are all i have, my faithful companions;
within them are hidden my mornings dews and my twilights,
the wind of the sea and the sounds of the ocean,
the essence of the river of my childhood,
countless sundowns, more memorable those when you were there,
the song that helps me forget, the poem that helps me remember;
just one stanza is within my reach today,
it is all i can afford today;
but neatly packed within it
is my first memory of you,
your first unsure gaze, and how my eyes held you,
the first sound of your voice,
my first image of you outside of my imagination;
yet it can only be this one stanza and not more--
all my riches are within it;
you only have but to look once;
there are no shortages nor any excesses--
all that is needed is here;
trapped within the spaces, within one or two of the words,
you will even find my hear, free standing.