A Ring

February 16, 2005

Hands threatened to pry apart his face

He realized they were his own

Tears took his fingers’ raw place

As he knelt and moaned

Sadness wracked his once proud body

Groping to find a source of comfort

His hands found a ring, once simple, it now seemed gaudy

No longer symbolic of love, it seemed to say “you’ve come up short.”

His broken voice rose in a cry

He cried out to someone intangible, who?

He did not know, his only question was “why?”

What could he do?  Merely sit and wait?  To be a fool?

Yet he could not rise for his legs were cold

Stiff from immobility after so long

Here for hours, he realized, he had let his strength fold

“why here?” he wondered “and show me my wrong.”

He found a picture, old and bent, torn here, faded there

tears flowed anew, for here was the reason

he fell upon the floor in wretched fear

to the picture he cried, “without you, I’d not last a season.”

The old image caught the drop of a tear

And the face captured behind the glass faded

To his amazement a new impression began to appear

Another of the beautiful face only now strangely shaded

She too held a picture which she hovered over

A tear formed in her eye and her hands faltered

She looked to the floor and sighed and motion was suddenly slower

Again the image of his love altered

To show that which she was holding

There he saw himself as he was now

A shell filled with tears, close to folding

As she too was, sadness furrowing her brow

Suddenly he realized, he dropped the token

He rose, turning to the half-open door

He passed through, striding with no word spoken

To the adjoining chamber, no sound of even footsteps upon the floor

Knocking softly, he eased himself inside

Her face turned over her shoulder and her picture fell

She stood slowly with grace and sorrow and he tried

To speak, his mind and heart tasting a flame of hell

She quickly saw his grieving plight

And her arms reached with trembling fingers

He accepted, eyes suddenly bright

And his soul no longer felt the horrid stingers

And a glow enveloped their surroundings grim

They found the light in a picture frame

Upon the floor forgotten by her and him

Where two faces, eyes joyfully kindling bright flame

His hands once more found the ring

And no longer was it the baubly, fancy sign

But a band of purest new hope, shimmering

As its creators, a tiny tear and love’s satisfied sigh.


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