It seems as though the finer things are far too easy to spawn their wings.
Gold and diamond rings, to some, comprise the finer things.
Gold will shine in weathered time, far less bright when you’re in sight.
A diamond will cease to be, long before the love between you and me.
Far too simple are these tokens if never true words for Two are spoken.
It seems as though the finer things are always the things you bring to me.
EaB~2003
