Fabulous. Your amazement sticks in my mind.
But I should have guessed
your disproportionate delight
might be the start of a decline.
You were beaming as you held the vase
which I didn’t know you’d kept,
just like those years before
when I’d hurried back from school
with it, my cherished gift to you.
This time, with both hands,
you place it on the sill too carefully.
Somebody’s rule of inversion;
appreciation is proportional
to what is left.
Crookedly the vase leans in all its orange splendour.
I see you shake your head in disbelief
repeating Fabulous with wonder.