The Anniversary Song

I gave my love paper which
I placed on cotton,
bound up in glass made of fire.
The flowers I placed in sweet
smelling driftwood
next to a heart made of iron.
The copper pottery,
the womb of a willow tree,
made the sound of things to come;
like tin hitting steel,
like skin on silk,
on a bitter winter morn.
The laced I placed
under the ivory vase,
adorned with crystal tears.
China and silver and pearls
completed our thirty years.
I'll never give her coral,
ruby or sapphire,
and gold will never reflect;
the face that's haunted me
some thirty years now.
The face I can't forget.