A ring, not just metal and stone,
but a whispered promise,
a tangible piece of my heart offered to you,
my Dragon Princess of the East.

It sits before me, a vision taking form,
rose gold warmed by imagined sunlight.
Floral vines, delicate yet strong,
climb and twist, embracing the gems.

Amethyst and moonstones,
blossoms of purple and pearly light,
scattered amongst the leaves,
a garden captured in miniature.

Is it engagement, then wedding,
or a seamless blend of both?
The rings intertwined, inseparable,
a symbol of a love without beginning or end.

Alexandrite, chameleons of light,
nestle beside the Amethyst,
their colors shifting, whispering secrets,
a dance of green and purple, a perfect harmony.

And at the heart of it all,
a trillion-cut diamond,
blazing with an inner fire,
a beacon of unwavering brilliance.

The ring is not alone.
Dangle earrings echo its beauty,
Royal cut Alexandrites cascading,
from small to large, a symphony of color.

Three stones aligned,
a delicate dance of light and shadow,
catching the ear, whispering of magic,
a perfect complement to the ring's embrace.

And then, the necklace,
a tear-shaped Alexandrite pendant,
resting against the alabaster skin,
a single drop of captured starlight.

It hangs suspended,
a breath held, a moment frozen,
a promise whispered against the skin,
a symbol of a love that transcends time.

The entire set, a constellation of dreams,
born from my heart, offered to you,
a testament to a love that blooms eternal,
A Circlet of Dreams, waiting to be worn.

A box, small and unassuming,
holds more than metal and stone.
Three rings, each a chapter closed,
a story whispered, then silenced.

The first, a Hawaiian sun,
gold warm against my skin,
a maile leaf lei etched in enamel,
a promise of island days,
a love as bright as the tropic bloom.
But the bloom faded, the sun set,
and the lei withered, a memory
of sand and surf, and a love
that sought solace in another's arms.

The second, silver, a simple band,
smooth and cool against my finger.
A barrel, strong and unadorned,
like the love we built, or so I thought.
A quiet strength, a steady hand,
a foundation laid, brick by painful brick.
But the foundation crumbled, the walls fell,
and the silver tarnished, a reflection
of a love that found comfort elsewhere.

The third, titanium, cold and hard,
dragons entwined in gold, a symbol
of power, of a love that burned bright.
A fierce embrace, a passionate fire,
a connection that felt unbreakable.
But the fire dwindled, the dragons slept,
and the titanium grew heavy, a weight
on my hand, a reminder of a love
that sought warmth in another's gaze.

Children grown, their laughter echoes
in the empty rooms of my heart.
Their friends, once my own, now strangers,
their lives moving forward, while I remain
anchored to the past, a silent observer.
A long-distance love, a whispered promise,
a fragile thread connecting two souls,
but the distance stretches, the thread thins,
and the whispers fade into the wind.

I stare at the box, at the rings within,
each a symbol of what was, what could have been.
A new ring beckons, a design forming
in the depths of my mind, a symbol of hope,
of a future yet unwritten.
But doubt whispers, a serpent in my ear,
was it me? Was I not enough?
Or were the circles simply incomplete,
destined to break, to shatter, to fade?
The Weight of Circles, heavy on my soul.

Sapling, a fragile reaching,
towards the sun's insistent call.
Woods cradle the tender green,
leaves unfurling, a soft whisper
against the rough bark.
Greenery spills, a vibrant stain
on the earth's dark canvas.
Roots, tenacious fingers, grasping,
anchoring, a silent conversation
with the soil's hidden depths.

Branches, arms outstretched,
a latticework of shadows,
sheltering secrets whispered
on the wind's breath.
Timber, the heartwood's strength,
a testament to time endured,
seasons weathered, storms survived.
Forest, a living tapestry, woven
with rustling leaves and silent growth.

Leaves, a symphony of color,
shifting with the sun's slow dance.
Gold, crimson, a fiery farewell
before the quiet sleep of winter.
The cycle continues, a rhythm
unfolding, a timeless ballet
of life and death.

Sunlight, a golden cascade,
filtering through the canopy's embrace.
Each ray a promise, a whisper
of renewal, of warmth, of life.
Roots, a tangled embrace,
drawing strength from the earth's core.
Branches, reaching for the heavens,
a silent plea, a quiet prayer.

Twilight descends, a hush falls,
the tree stands sentinel, guardian
of whispered dreams, secrets held
in the rustling leaves.
Forest's heart beats softly,
a symphony of whispers, a chorus
of life, a testament to time.
Timber's strength, roots' embrace,
leaves' gentle sigh, a story told
in the language of the woods.

A whisper of green, a delicate bloom,
Hemlock's sweet scent, a perfumed tomb.
Innocent petals, so fragile and white,
Concealing a darkness, a final night.

A bitter tang, on the tongue it lies,
A chilling embrace, as the body sighs.
Numbness creeps in, a slow, gentle freeze,
The world fades away, on a chilling breeze.

The limbs grow heavy, the senses grow dim,
A quiet surrender, to fate's cruel whim.
The heartbeats falter, a slowing drum,
As darkness descends, and senses go numb.

The mind still flickers, a fading light,
Aware of the ending, the endless night.
A philosophical question, a final jest,
"I drank what?" he asks, putting fate to the test.

I have no voice, but my song fills your heart.
I have no form, but my presence is an art.
I bloom in silence, a delicate flower,
Nourished by respect, in every shared hour.
I burn with a passion, a gentle warm light,
Reflecting your soul, both morning and night.
I ask for no grand gestures, no jewels, nor gold,
Just a whispered promise, a story untold.
What am I, treasured and precious and true,
A bond between two, me and you?

... Love