The Love-Gift

Is crystal fierce, or is it delicate? 
This lotus-form in watery shell pink
Explodes with chiseled petals, imbricate
In full-blown glory, wielding phalanxed power
As every glinting tip shoots like a sword
Into my sphere—a challenge of a flower.

And yet its angled facets, catching shadow,
Sun, and lamplight, kindle varied tones
Of white, blush, rose, and waffling mauveish half-glow,
Disguising the precision of its points
With shifting inner hints and mergences—
A dizzy fractionation which disjoints

All surface definition. Yes, my dear,
You’ve given me this riddle of a gift:
Like it, you harbor multitudes made clear
Yet complicated by traversing light
And darkness. Look: you captivate my mind
This way—as strong and soft, as loose and tight.













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