For you lot, the riddle I craft;
What is it, the precious gift?
A diamond ring? A pearl string?
An elite house? A bling blouse?
If you think, that it's a Car,
you've been wrong, so far.
Wine or Beer or any such drink;
For the sorrow, that they sink?
A watch, a perfume, a bouquet you say?
Sorry, you've got to go—a long way.
Puzzled and baffled, need any clue?
Out of the blue, here's your cue.
It can't be bought, or be sought.
Give it a shot. That's all you've got.
Life, the beautiful gift;
Surely is, short and swift.
Dress it not, with despair and grief,
for it is, balmy and brief.
All you have, is only one;
Like this Earth and her Sun.
Knock-out all, rage and fury;
Squeeze-in some, joy and merry.
To your grave, nothing you take.
Except for memories, those you make.