A god would be a cruel god indeed,
to steal a gift reluctantly bestowed
regarding not recipient of this prize
Nor yet the pain he caused to those he chose

If there was such a cruel god as this
Reneging on a covenant prior made
Who's selfishness gave naught but bitter hurt
And rent those hearts with which he cruelly played

Why, he could not be a god at all
A mortal might indeed be deemed thus mean
But those on high have higher greater aims
And thus no ill thought motives can be gleaned

Thus was Mathilde... a gift bestowed,
On Earth, to those whose lives she so enhanced
Who's Summer smile and trickling water laugh....
Had impact on all at whom she glanced

Her gurgling laugh, expressions on her face
Her countenance gave naught but warmest joy
A smile to melt the coldest meanest heart
A tiny hand held out to touch a toy
 
Her want to meet the need of those she loved,
Desires to please... were very well renown,
Fulfilled requests to "lift head"... using brows...
or "smile", or show a 'Casey Stoner frown'

Thus was Mathilde May's short span on Earth,
too briefly was she bathed in love's warm glow
She left behind the greatest gift of all
The seed of hope which in due time will grow

The owners of this gift, deep saddened at their loss
Cannot conceive how best to heal their grief
Nor well intentioned mortal's best advice
Could offer aught but slightest of relief

How then to comfort those who's loss is great?
No instant way to ease this burdened pain
What words bring counsel or support
Naught can, but time... might better help explain

A gift would be a wasted gift indeed
Which did not leave a mark where it had been
Reminding of a glimpse of heavenly joy
And leaving naught but myriad thoughts serene.

A gift would not have been a gift at all
That left behind it naught but woe and pain
This child was never such a gift as this
A beauteous image, long memories will retain

Love ensures that memories never dim
And time will help an injured heart to heal
This gift, whilst all too briefly held
Kindled a torch who's light will never yield

A god, ill thought, might not be deemed so mean,
Who, felt that 'giving now' had caused him strife
If that god's need was truly great indeed
And gift returned was given eternal life

But none of this can salve the hurt thus wrought
At taking back a gift that was so loved
Except to know that gift was to be freed
From earthly limits so sadly mis-bestowed

No gift was ever loved so much as this,
No love was ever giv'n so pure or true,
This gift was cherished every waking hour
So no regrets, nor 'moments lost' to rue