If I wore a ring,
And it's beauty was muted,
Could I still wear it?

My mom wears a ring,
On her left ring finger,
It used to be beautiful,
The thoughts still linger,
The scent of the silver,
The light of the diamond,
The time it was displayed,
On one knee,
On one island,
These lingering thoughts,
They bring tears through the night,
What irony, what surprise,
After once being filled with delight,
After years of fighting,
After years of pain,
She still wears the ring,
But now it looks
Plain

"Can I see them?" He asks
He rolls up my sleeves
And sees,
Nothing...
I point to my hip,
"They are here" I say,
His face goes blank,
And reality takes its place,
"Oh god",
He says, and he pushes his face,
Into my arm...
"Im sorry" I say,
His head,
His eyes,
They meet mine,
"Never be sorry" he says,
He takes me into his chest,
"You are loved, I love you" he says,
With tears welling in his eyes,
His beautiful oceans,
Turn to flooding red seas...