Poem: The Telling of Riches

My worth is not to be teased out in the sum of my earnings

Judge it instead, by the contents of my bookshelves

By the thoughtful seedlings

That I collate and curate

Nurture and germinate

Budding into leafy life

On rooted branches

Know me by the prose and poetry

That feeds the fertile field of my mundane existence

The blooming, sensual buds that pepper my soul

With erotic wickedness

Know me by musicking fabrics

Those collages as flighty as birdsong,

As winged hopes posing side by side

On leaning branches

She is to be trusted

Who lines the heart of her home

With an armoury of intellect

Who fashions from the fragile triumphs

Of another’s best endeavours

A virtuous fortress

Mounted on the head of the mountain

She is generous, who,

As her fortress rests

On the rhizome of its foundation

Beckons you across the threshold

She who sits

Who shares

And who grows with you

Until, with the seasoning, seasoned waters of time

You are

Both the richer

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