You talk about winning the lottery,
about becoming a millionaire,
but I think it would cheapen you,
make you less than what you are-
a man who deserves oceans
and rolling hills, great expanses
of the sky nestled in his lap.
This is when you would be richest-
standing in the places where
the countryside collides with the cliffs
and crashes into the sea,
because, my love, you are richest
when you allow the world around you
to love you.
Poem & photograph: © Kristiana Reed 2020
