Not All That Glitters

In a worn, warm nest,

we plan a life of sure and dull.

And you ask if -

Do I not want gilt and gold?

I want gold from none but you.

Give me all of your dull,

your drab,

your sure and neat if you can't give me gold.

Give me your fair days,

and your poor days,

if they come more than your good days.

Give me your hand.

Just your hand,

and I will want for no more than this;

your skin and heat,

and the wisp of air from your lips.

Give me just this,

and I can dig my love up from the deep,

like a rock,

and wash away the grit.

For you I can make it glow,

and put it at your feet,

with awe.

You can't see that you make gold from nowt but love.

But I do.

I see you.