The gifts- a poem

IT’S funny how we change with time,

How age will shape our view.

For as a child, a gift would mean,

Receiving something new.

THEN, through the years, I came to see

A gift quite differently.

The loves I found, the friends I have,

The places yet to see.

AND now gifts softly come my way

As I look towards the sky.

With sand beneath my feet, I stroll

And watch the seagulls fly.

Retm