By Matt Schnirel

Some people swear that hearts come from the sand
Washed up along some South Asian beach off Thailand
Blood red and true
A gift from him to you
All I have to do is look in my hands

As spectacular as you are
Like a diamond cut star
More than I could ever refuse

A rare buried treasure
Placed somewhere in sight
A gem given to a poor man
In the middle of the night

While I can’t place a value
The market could never decide
Your kind combination
Will always reside
In the translucent blood
Of love we value as true

You are precious to me
And always will be
My ruby