Sparkler Poem by fiona sinclair

Sparkler


Espresso high on his proposal,
no thoughts of a ring until on the Ponte Vecchio
amidst the blaze of bling,
his disappointment at the Medici price tags.
Time was I could have let you loose with my credit card.
You had sworn off real jewellery anyway,
after watching mother milk men for sapphires, diamonds …
Found yourself drawn to modest silver and faux-pearl
Your friends will think I'm a cheapskate
But this ring would always mean;
hot chocolate he stood a spoon up in,
your OMG at the scale of ‘David'.
the Duomo photo-bombing every view.

Designer bags raised friends' expectations,
your extended hand met with a pause,
‘It's very you', ‘How unusual'
the backstory beginning to sound an excuse.
Handling his heart like cutting a precious gem
you obtain his blessing to buy something glittery,
a We'll see to your paying for it yourself.
He sacrifices the meet at Sandown to ring shop,
but you soon find emeralds don't come cheap,
In the 11th hour jewellers, I'd forgotten about this one,
two diamond body guards flanking a superstar stone,
old stock at pre- gold rush prices,
knocked into your price range
by his cheeky chappy How much for cash?
In the car you take it from its conker casing,
you and the ring both off the shelf now.