Walk a mile

My Job Is Done

Breathing in the comforting scent
of well-travelled paper,
she rubs her fingers
over my embossed designs;
colourful ribbons and bows
decorating presents
wrapped in patterned paper.
She smiles at the hint of glitter
that clings to her fingertips.
ignoring the faint creak
of stiff cardboard
as she reveals my message,
tracing the handwriting
written with love
in a rounded script.
Carefully
she places me
in pride of place
on the mantelpiece.
I will be the quietest guest
at her birthday party,
but she smiled,
so my job is done.


Free verse. Written 30 September 2015.