Diamonds
Don’t buy diamonds for me, my love
Nor plastic that lasts though the earth tries to absorb
Love is a handful of wildflowers—coneflower, daisy, poppy
too.
Plucked in my hand they wither, need reminding, renewal
Love is a watercolor on parchment—dissolving and bled if
thrown out in the storm.
Love is a garden, in need of watering, weeding, sun's warm.
Love for one day cannot stand alone.
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