Ph: Love: The Gift Of Love Poem by Brian Johnston

The gift of love is special,
But love is still always love,
On dry crops it oft appears as rain,
Where drought plies its wares is only pain ,
And flood seems to break rainbow promise.

The Christ crucified seems huge
Taking out trash trivial,
A child's gift, like a four leaf clover
Looms larger than white cliffs of Dover
Survives like thoughts of doubting Thomas.

Not one second rings hollow,
Lacks anything in God's Grace,
As Time's clock calls tick tock for each gift ,
There are no extra points for the swift,
Though some might complain it's not fair.

If God judged one gift better,
Could God's love still be God's love?
Is your offering more loving than mine,
Does my gift proffer more of a shine?
Jilted lovers still dare to compare.