A Bitter Truth

Had she dreamed of kingdoms
I would have conquered
Realms.

Nothing would I have withheld.

Diamonds
Pressed from fiery coals
Riches
From the coffer of kings
Luster
From spangling stars.

For her I would rob
Roses
Of their scent
Night
Of its moon glow
Wine
Of its blush.

For her I would separate
The chill from winter
The lush from spring
The sweat from summer
The tint from autumn.

I gave her
The beat of my heart
Gleam of my eyes
Softness of my touch.

But she taught me a bitter truth.

Love is not about
What one might give
As much as it is about
What two might share.

And two cannot share
When one cannot give.