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The Prize
I sit upon the shower floor
And in the steam I dare to dream
To dress you up
Adorn you with the treasures of my heart
Just as much a part of me as my eye or hand
And then I think how ugly the thought of it
When you have eyes and hands of your own
That you must prefer to be free of any ornaments which do not reflect the light of your own soul
Ah, but the allure of pride!
For a man to look upon his prize
Elevated in status above her peers
Decorated in hundreds of hours of labor and love
To lift a women of the Earth
Into the realm of Olympus
And then -
To hold her hand
