These chains
around my neck,
these finger rings,
these bangles
and ear studs
and the rest of the
baubles
and trinkets
they are for you
to see.
They try to
bog me.

For you
and your like
I wear them.
You can commit them
to memory.
Because tomorrow
they may not be.

And then
Start not
at their absence,
grieve not
at their loss.
They were always
Illusory.

The wind is my soul,
The sun my breath
and the rain my finery.

(All rights reserved)

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