An egg,
closed like a secret,
opens
not to nourish
but to astonish.

Gold curls
like smoke around enamel,
a bird waits
beneath a hinge.

He did not build monuments-
he built moments,
small enough to hold,
infinite enough to remember.

Jewels speak in his language ,
not of wealth,
but of wonder.

He chased symmetry
only to hide surprise inside it.

Time sits gently
in a music box,
in a miniature carriage,
in a portrait no larger
than a sigh.

Nothing he made
was necessary,
and that
was the point.