A knife for Tim, a book for Kim;
His looks like fruit, yours rind.
But poems, like fruit,
I picked to suit
And shape your pretty mind.

For when you're eight, a knife is great,
A kind of poem for boys.
The verse he hears,
In guns and spears,
Would sound to you like noise.

A blade that's Swiss, won't please a Miss
As much as pretty rhymes.
It helps to know,
That minds aglow
Have weathered troubed times.

But someday, Tim, will wed, you see,
And you'll be someone's wife.
And then I'll give
The book to him,
And you will get the knife.

....................