21 Days Poem by Beryl Dov

Three Weeks gone. The days have cost
Dearly when measured in dollars lost.
Yet in these 21 days my heart has yielded
A higher interest than our marriage was sealed with.

What percentage could gauge the greater gain
In love that money could only feign.
Insured I’m not against a loss. I must
Confess I abide in a higher trust.

When this round of emotions has been spent,
Squandered on this mortal shell that I‘ve been lent,
I can gladly turn to Time’s usurer. And repay
His priceless loan of love—day by day.