The Ring
I want to stop that moment and live it again,
Only slower, your fingers grasping my hand.
You asked to see my ring; a stealth excuse
So subtly conceived; our hands were there now, level
With your desk, that picture of you and some she.
All I knew of you: a divorce, but now no ring.
Like the rays of light streaming in my window;
Arriving home my thoughts would not forget how
Your fingers grasped my hand. I could have taken
Off the ring, held it up for you to see.
Your mind and mine were level, you found an excuse
For that which we both desired but could
Not name, like the light breaking through my window,
That one should know its source through an object.
Like a simple ring, or the lack of one—
Wanted but not known, felt but withdrawn
from Autumn Sky Poetry 20 — by Christine Yurick
Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim
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