While on the lonely path
I chanced upon a tree in bloom
cool pink under stellar wrath
its value held in its doom.

I gazed upon its beauty
its worth seemed ever true
so unlike diamonds and their cruelty
its day but number few.

Its folds held fragrant melody
its petals soft as silk
yet many think gold a remedy
scrathed from earth by all manner of ilk.

I plucked a handsome cluster
to prolong my chance encounter.
It set the clock to muster
its price all the more profounder.