The Gift

It wasn’t a click or a card in the mail,

Or a gift-wrapped box from a seasonal sale.

At almost sixteen, her world moves lightning speed,

With so many dreams and so much to lead.

Yet she carved out a silence, a space in her day,

To craft something thoughtful and send it my way.

No longer the scribbles of a child’s small hand,

But a piece of the person she’s grown to command.

It’s in the precision, the choice of the thread,

The hours of effort, the thoughts in her head.

She didn’t just buy it; she built it with care,

Weaving a piece of our bond in right there.

To be "seen" by a teenager—truly and deep—

Is a treasure I know that I’m destined to keep.

It’s her way of showing, in her own unique style,

That I’m someone worth that extra effort and mile.

A gesture of love, intentional and true,

The kind of appreciation that carries me through.

It sits on my shelf, a quiet, bright sign,

That even as she grows, her heart stays near mine.

A niece’s pure heart in a gift she could make,

The most beautiful present I ever could take.