10 grams of gold



It’s not something to take lightly,

These 10 grams of gold

Encircling my third finger on my left hand.

One gram for each digit.

It’s a weight that feels solid,

Grown-ups’ jewellery.

It’s no trinket picked up on a side-street

Meant to declare a persona.


It’s no charmed gilded cage,

Suffocating, restricting, controlling.

it’s a reminder of you,

Every minute of every day,

Of a love that’s secure,

Without artifice, threats or lies.

It’s our treasure to share,

Our investment to protect.

Rust, don’t you settle here.


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