Sunday, September 21, 2008

The Ring I Wear

It is not gold,
it is not grand,
it is of stone
upon my hand.

Given by no man
it is of the earth
that which began
held in its girth

Akin to steel
dark and guarding
as I'm held to heal
within its warding

A barrier to
the next in line
to approve, so few,
and so many decline.

But until such a time
as that should arrive
it would truly be a crime
a courtship to contrive.

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