For Love Nor Money

  
For love nor money
I make you
nothing
but an eagle in flight
and less a child
that monsters might seek
to hide
beneath your bed.
Let it never be said, that I
turned the other eye
or was blind of cheek,
for it was me who peeled
the sheet away
and stood up beside you
to face the days and endless
nights, of black and green –
for I had seen
the colour of your
money long ago; but not your
love; no,
for that was buried too deep
and I would have to keep peeling
more than sheets,
more onion layers,
if I was ever to see it
baying
at the stars;
but for your love nor money,
I know,
I shall never ask.