The Ring Left Behind

The ring.
The one piece of his jewelry
I now wear around my neck
on a long gold chain.

If I were in my teens, still,
I’d proudly wear his massive, blue stoned ring,
on my left-hand ring finger
for all the world to see.

I’d have wrapped it multiple times over
with strands of white angora yarn
so it would not slip off,
be lost, and bring tears of a break-up.

Forty and four years, wiser,
still a wide-eyed teen at heart,
I wear it now around my neck,
close to my breast.

He is no longer here, you see,
to hold my hand,
to kiss my lips,
to say I love you ten times a day.

He left behind his favorite Navy ring
for me to find and remember
the touch of his hand,
the twinkle in his eyes
and to say, ten times a day,

I love you still.