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I welcome any suggestions, constructive critiquing, and comments on this piece.  It's haunting me a bit.

Thank you so much.


 The Ring


She'd worn his ring nearly 50 years;

he'd slipped it tenderly on her finger

as a symbol of their love -

 pure, true,

 no beginning, no ending.

From poorer to richer,

through thinner and thickest,

they shared their love;

learning to become stronger in

their weakest moments.

Together they traveled their journey;

pushing, pulling one another up steep mountains,

resting, holding one another in peaceful valleys,

breathing, drinking life in.

From health to sickness,

through good days and bad,

he stayed by her side;

grateful for the years they'd shared,

the canvas of memories they'd painted,

the lyrical moments too perfect to believe.

He'd loved her without reserve, without question.

Now, at her bedside, he soothed her last worries,

dried her saltiest tears, hiding his own.

Softly, prayerfully,

he stroked her fragile hand

and kissed her worn gold ring.


2 Comment count
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This is lovely but if you want my opinion!

Elisa, I would say;
she wore...
he slipped it tenderly...
he loved her...
grateful for the years they shared...
...hid his own... best, m

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Thank you for your kind words and for taking the time to give this thought.  For some reason this piece is just gnawing at me.  

Thanks again!