It was her first piece of jewelry
and gleamed brightly on a hand
reaching for diploma –
the first in her family to graduate.

Shining from soap suds,
it glistened when a tall young man
entered the diner during supper rush
and ordered love.

As he put a ring on her other hand
She slipped her class ring
Onto a finger that was
Already being pulled across the sea.

It glowed in sunlight
when he gripped rails looking homeward
and by light of cigarette
as nightly he wrote of love
to keep from thinking of fear.

When at last they returned to her,
it glinted with reflected pride
as he held their son
and later… daughters.

But there was no glimmer
when his hands filled with tears
knowing she faced an enemy
he lacked the power to defeat.
And he put the ring away
as he stumbled from her grave.

Now, it is mine.
Whatever engravings
once graced the band
are long obliterated.
It’s silent of the stories
I know it could tell
but the very wornness says –
there once was love.

I slip it onto your finger
and though its stay is brief
I will see it there
each time I close my eyes,
whenever I breathe your name.
I’ll hear it clearly say
There is love.