The Gift - Gerry Hancock

That moment when the tide turned
And gathered up its frothy anger
To carry it out to sea,
Was the moment I loved to walk
In that place.
Toes sinking into liquid sand
At the water’s edge,
Deep impressions filled
Heel and toe with tiny swirling pools.
Sand filters them away,
All mark of presence erased.
This is the gift
I would give to you,
If giving I can
When that which I wish to give
Is gone. 
That moment,
A mite of time,
When you make your mark
Just for you.
And then it is no more.
Your gift to appreciate
For that singular moment,
Your uniqueness.
That is the gift I yearn to give
But cannot,
As this gift only you
Can gift yourself