For S

[tonidcali2701]

The Ring

It was an impulse
gift.
On a summer evening
stroll,
"Here," you said,
"I need to give
away these tattered
remnants."

Casually you place
in my palm
a battered
circle, silver-grey.
your fingers
lightly brushing
mine.

I accept
this remainder,
token
of affections
long-turned,
thinking
perhaps echoes
still cling
to the polished
inner surface.