I gave you a blue stone
You said it was green
It was special to me
You laid it aside
Now I miss the stone
But you have forgotten about it.

I brought you a jar of peppers
Some special mustard
Imported ham
You had already eaten dinner
A week later, the ham was spoiled
You never opened the peppers and mustard.

I brought you a handful of straw,
Buttercream-colored like a baby's hair
Soft, spun from past loves and hope,
Wine pressed in my heart by my own hands.

You gave me a room, unfurnished,
A garden, dead and brown,
A well, neglected and brackish.