In my shaking hand
I hold a ring that was made for you.
A simple ring
Crafted by the desire in me
From the garden you once rested on,
As I painstakingly intertwined the grass blades
Into an aureole to crown your slender finger.

This ring,
Now lustreless
And almost faded away
Rests in my hand.
I remember the day
I crafted it.

Your eyes were filled with delight,
Your voice exuded pleasure
As I fearfully handed you the ring,
And nervously expelled those words
That changed our lives.
Though eventually for the worse!

My wife you became,
And this ring was replaced
With a diamond embedded in gold
Purchased for your contentment,
Purchased to relieve my embarrassment
Of my poorly crafted ring.

This grass ring,
Crafted with my love
I still have…
As I reminisce,
As I wait for the pain
To return.

This ring I made
On the day I asked you to be my wife.
Now, after the separation
And the inevitable divorce
I look at it,
Searching for enlightenment.

I loved you,
I still do,
It does not matter now.
It will not matter tomorrow.
I have this ring,
To remind me of that day.

This ring of my love
Will always remind me
Of the happiness that you
Bestowed upon me,
The beauty of love
That I learnt from you.

This ring I will always keep,
As a treasure of our love,
As a trophy of my experience,
As a medal of my faith
And, as a scar…
Of the failure of love.