We dredge secrets,
That's the start,
Panning love from art.
Our words wash over
Like sluicing water,
To clean the buried heart.

Crack the hard rock
To reach motherlode;
Veins enrich us,
With jewels to share.

Float to the summit
On romantic trysts;
Reclaim me from
An open pit
With deep drill
Diamond bits.

These small gems
We call poems
Are sweet as gold
From honeycombs.