There is no
Perfect fit
For a ring
Which has us binded
And assumes
This show of promise
Is best said
On our hands

But instead
Just dangles close
To the finger
Of its bearer
Reminding them
How distance
Allows for
Sudden change

And assumes
All needed growth
Has gifts
To keep things special
Like diamonds
Shining brighter
In light
We don’t expect

With faith
Still left to spare
Where space
Just doesn’t matter
Between those
Silver linings
Or gold
If you’d prefer,

Spinning
While we pace
On this axis
Of our measure
Loose
As hope intended
For life to swell
Like flesh

Retracting
From old age
But clinging
To our knuckle
Reminding us
That symbol
Endures
No matter what.

– J. Pigno