By Bill H. BronxBill1@aol.com
Date: 27 May 1997

The Keepsake

I keep your ring in a box in the drawer,
set snug on a cloud of sterile cotton,
souvenir to a trust you've long forgotten
that in youthful exuberance we swore.
As each in our genders began to mature
we bore each others pain and grew confident in
intimate expressions we knew were not sin,
forging a band with a singular flaw.

Our signet set with wisps of desire
stretched thin the strands of sighed fidelity.
Our passions stoved in a refining fire
could not bear the weight of love's gravity.

While you've escaped the ashes and gone on to wed
I box again this dream and slip into my bed.