Treasures
in unmade beds
and unlighted rooms,
in the slant of hill
and the curve of light,
in the warmth in her voice,
in the throat of the unsung,
and with the praise
in her quiet smile
she gives gold to the ordinary.
Treasures
in the nervous moment
when she says,
“I want to be honest with you,”
and then, expecting good byes,
she gives you the heavens,
and that’s the truth you want:
pleasantries in the common
where simple hopes are realized,
where lifes riches awaken
in the opening body
of kiss and, yes.
