This brief gem achieves rare economy, distilling the entire experience of cherishing someone into just a handful of lines. Plahm plays with the word “every” as both accumulation and totality—pennies become dollars, seconds become days, and all of it becomes worthwhile in the presence of the beloved. The closing haiku crystallizes the transaction: time and money pass, but what remains is the tactile reality of “your hand in my palm.” The poem’s brevity is itself a statement—love doesn’t require elaborate declarations when a simple truth will do.

A masterclass in compression. This tiny poem punches well above its weight, using the familiar currency of time and money to make an unfamiliar point feel fresh. The repetition of “every” creates a rhythmic accumulation that mirrors the poem’s theme—small things adding up to something precious. The pivot to haiku form at the end is an inspired choice, grounding abstract concepts (value, worth, time) in the simple physicality of a held hand. Where the poem could go further is in its emotional specificity—the subject remains somewhat abstract (“you”) rather than vividly realized. But perhaps that’s the point: this is a love poem that any reader can inhabit. Clean, effective, and quietly moving.