My Treasure


A treasure not sought after much

By elderly or youth;

A beauty not admired as such

By primitive or couth.

The satisfaction she provides

Is not for sale in stores;

No advertisements or bromides

No international tours.

The cynics and the skeptics doubt

What good she has to give;

For me she is what good’s about

And my whole reason to live.

Enjoying her the way I do

You’d think I wouldn’t share;

The truth is, if the world did too

There’d still be much to spare.

Each evening I do creep away

Enwrapped in cloak of night

And cast aside the workaday

For wisdom’s sweet delight.

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