Prospect

 

 
I knew your love was nothing but fool’s gold,

But there was just enough in its allure

As I went wandering, alone, heart-poor,

Enthralled by thoughts of treasure I could hold.

I spied your pieces, bright as real gold gleams,

But shrewder eyes would soon have spotted brass

Where richer tones should be. Of all this mass,

I couldn’t forge a fleck to fit my dreams.

Some months before, I’d left the wilder lands

Where I had shoveled for more honest stuff

And labored long, and sweated till my hands

Held some small specks. I might’ve dug enough,

But truer ore was so much harder mined

I dropped my spade and grabbed your love, half-blind.
 

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