A Poem for my Wife: The Ring
My wedding band is a bit too big,
But this doesn't bother me a bit.
Throughout my day, it slips and slides,
Never quite staying in one place.
All day, touching, checking, spinning it,
Adjusting, pushing it back into place.
Ever my reminder that love is,
Elusive to catch and fleeting to hold,
And in a moment of inattention, lost.
It is always there on my finger,
With very few extreme exceptions.
I will take it off to play basketball,
Or if I plan to punch something.
If violence and danger inherent
In the activity, I will take it off,
But briefly, it is strong, solid gold,
But, its shine fragile and delicate,
Still in need of protection and safeguarding.
All other times, I carry it with me,
Ever feeling, fondling caressing it.
There's another reason I like the best,
About my ring being a bit too big.
Each of the million times I touch it,
I think of she who I wear it for.
The One who gave it to me,
Who can't be here now, but,
Is present in mind each time I touch my bit too big wedding band.