Don't give me boxes with rings and diamonds the color of Tiffany Blue.
No, let that be the color of the water we swim in together or the dress I wear when we dance as husband and wife.
Don't buy me sapphires or rubies or emerald greens all tied up in blue boxes.
No, let that be the color of the sky we see as we peek between palm branches. Let it be the color of the sheets we slide beneath as we wrap ourselves together.
Don't tie up trinkets with bows of white and priceless gems of gold and platinum.
No let that be the color of the walls of our house, the icing on the cake for our twentieth anniversary, the first blanket of our grandchild.
If it must be a box of Tiffany Blue, let it be when I am too old, too gray, too brittle to dance, to laugh, to sing. Fill it with our memories of all things Tiffany Blue.