What precious gift cannot be sent,
A cup poured gets fuller still;
A golden coin that is never spent,
A space you cannot fill.
A lack of which will weigh you down,
Lead boots of nothing there;
A flood in which you cannot drown,
A game where all is fair.
If ever you should come to find
This gift no more received;
The remedy should come to mind,
Then happiness achieved.
Don’t bother counting what you get,
Such gold but fools can measure;
The test of time that wins the bet,
What you give will be your treasure.
© 2011 Jack Thompson