One summer day in fifty-nine,
That book was handed, calm, benign.
No grand intent, no heavy talk—
Bob was casual, so I’d not balk.

 

“You might like this,” he said offhand,
A seed that fell on fertile land.
I took it, thinking I knew much,
But soon would learn a deeper touch.

A quiet gift can shift your way,
And shape the soul in just one day.
What seemed so small at first glance seen
Did plant a truth, both strong and keen.

 

I thought I was a decent guy,
Yet friendships often passed me by.
But Carnegie laid bare the cause—
Too much of "I," too few applause.

 

“A man convinced against his will…”
Still echoes in my memory still.
Ask more, speak less, and let them show
The depths within they rarely know.

 

At fifteen, pride could cloud my view,
Yet something in me let it through.
I valued truths that sparked a change—
And then my habits rearranged.

A quiet gift can shift your way,
And shape the soul in just one day.
What seemed so small at first glance seen
Did plant a truth, both strong and keen.

 

I learned to ask, to truly care,
But did not learn how me to share.
Withholding self, I tried too hard,
And built those bonds that felt on guard.

 

Later, I saw what I had missed—
Real friendships need both truth and twist.
A dance of minds, a shared reveal,
To make connection deep and real.

 

So thank you, Bob, for what you gave—
A spark that helped my young self brave.
The first great book that changed my fate,
And taught me how to navigate.

A quiet gift can shift your way,
And shape the soul in just one day.
What seemed so small at first glance seen
Did plant a truth, both strong and keen.