The Price of Love
I had nothing to give him
Nothing the world would envy
Only a frail shell and a brindled feather,
A twig of rosemary and some rough sea jade.
Bound in a strand of summer grass
Those small things, forming words I could not express.
Words which seemed impossible then
Too hollow, too barren for what was in my heart
So I gave him my world: the earth, sky and sea,
In remembrance for what he'd given me.
But he spoke of gold and the price of love
And laughed in disbelief at my meager gifts.
He waved them aside, sought the joke in my eyes,
"And where is love in all of this?" he asked.
Impossible, impossible moment burning in me.
Impossible moment haunting me,
Through the years, lost language of my soul
Language of my heart, gifts to a blind man
(c) 2006 J.L Stanley