Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Blossom to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
It was not made of diamonds, and it did not cost a fee,
Just a band of humble silver that you slipped upon for me.
You said it is a circle that has no start or end,
And so shall be my promise to be your lover and your friend.
I wear it to the market and I wear it to the sea,
And each time it catches sunlight, it is you who winks at me.
It has scratches from the garden and a dent from a door,
But every mark's a story of the hearts that we adore.
For love is not a shining thing that stays unscathed and new,
It is polished by the years we spend in every hardship through.
So let the ring grow lovely in the wearing and the wear,
A small round proof that two can weather more than one can bear.
Poet of Blossom · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
A plain silver ring is the hero of this poem. Its scratches and dents tell the story of a love that has been lived in and not kept on a shelf.
The ring is “not made of diamonds,” just “a band of humble silver.” The giver says it is “a circle that has no start or end,” a promise to be “your lover and your friend.” The speaker wears it “to the market” and “to the sea,” and when “it catches sunlight,” it is the beloved “who winks at me.”
Over time the ring collects “scratches from the garden and a dent from a door,” and each mark is “a story.” The speaker sees that love is “polished by the years” and hopes that the ring will “grow lovely in the wearing,” “a small round proof that two can weather more than one can bear.”