Not much in diamonds, silver or gold
Does this love of mine have or hold,
Yet if sweetness is measured
In riches, and trust treasured
Beyond what riches can buy,
Then I have all, and that is why
I’ll love cherish, in sickness and health,
This man above earth’s great treasured wealth.
I’ll take the love he offers me
To the bank of life, and let it be
Riches beyond my just desserts
To hover and protect me from all hurts
Of life, to dream, fulfill and give
Back to him a love that will live.
He little knew what he found in me,
And I could have warned him of yet-to-be,
But he placed those conditions on his giving;
After offering his heart to help my living.
Gave he happiness as best he could.
I promised more than ever I should.
His jealousy reared its ugly head
And my new found love was all but dead.
Past remembrances flood as agonized mind
Of a love brought down, and now I find
I cannot bear this love once found
To be all it promised and now I’m bound
To end it all for sanity’s sake—
And—promised love? It’s not his to “take.”
—Lois Barrett ‘91