Debt and repayment,

'This one is for you'
Handing me
A bunch of roses,
She said,

'How can I this gift repay?'
I asked,
She looked at me,
Momentary
A glimpse,
But it was no less than eternity,

I murmured
A fragment of a poem,
As old as that Mahogany Tree,
Which grew in my garden,
A fragment of that poem, ancient,
I to her, recited,

Afterall, I had nothing to repay a debt,

So I read out those lines,
As ancient as that Mahogany Tree in my garden,

She heard those lines,
With attention, rapt,
The moment which deserved it, apt,
And causing wonderment
To me,
She replied:
'You made me an ivy vine,
Filled with blossoms,white,
Can I borrow those lines?'

I felt
An adornment
She had worn
For me,
To strike me
With her soulful beauty,
And debts
Of roses more
She had left for me.