Enough To Stand On Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Everything has moved from ownership
to contracts—
iPhones, rental cars,
Sky packages, Netflix, marriage.
But that's not how I want you —
you can't be renewed like a subscription.

Your presence is a freedom of choice,
a wild blossom unattended
that'll bloom just as well without me.
What could be more precious
than a wild primrose by a stream,
where I dip my feet in a spiralling spring
and have my hand held fast.

Falling, falling—
who needs ownership papers for that?
Does a bee barter with a flower?
Are the stars not a darkness,
enveloped in living light?
Does the sun not rise covetously,
warming you till you seek shade and shadow?
Am I not enough to stand on?