By Suzie  <steve.humbert@azwest.net>
Date: 9 February 1998

Diamonds and You

	Sitting on the old worn carpet in my bedroom, you handed me a 
small, messily-wrapped box. (You never were good at wrapping presents.)
I peeled the tape from wrinkled edges of cherub wrapping paper and 
unveiled a small velvet box.  My heart raced and screamed and fainted, 
and the two seconds it took me to flip up the hinged lid seemed an 
eternity.  Inside a shimmering solitaire stared back at me, and I knew 
it held the secrets of love.  And our next kiss was embedded within that
diamond.  All of our past kisses were somehow in there too, and all of
those yet to come.  
	As I held back my hair, you slipped your arm around my neck
to fasten the clasp, and it gleamed with confidence in the future.  It 
whispered, but it's voice wasn't quite audible.  It was telling me it's 
secrets, but wouldn't let me hear.
	And twice every day, my hair is pushed back and the clasp opens 
and closes - once in the morning, and once in the evening. And every day
I glance down at the perfectly cut stone and hold it in the light so that
it sparkes with prisms of memories and aspirations.  It beholds every
single kiss, every shared lemonade, every view of the city from the twenty-
third floor of the Hyatt downtown.  It, in a hushed voice, screamed every
camping trip and every bag of butter-laden popcorn at the movies.  
(You've always liked that gross butter sauce.)  Anyway, it has ultimately
beheld you and I, my love.  You and I.