As I stood up
I felt it and recalled taking it off
To soothe my hands with fragrant lotion.
Nonchalantly,
I watched it tumbling down,
Forever
Slipping out of reach
Deep in the underbrush of Bermuda Grass
And I thought,

`I can come back later, with a metal detector,
If not,
It is a good place,
For the anniversary ring
That meant to him only another
Opportunity
For an outward show to feign affection'.

I can still see it fall,
And could make quite a spectacle
Describing it's descent and final resting place,
Swallowed by the luxuriant sponge.

But I shall not!
Be as flamboyant as he was in presenting it as a
Display,
Not intimately.

Still,
As I drive past,
I sometimes glance
For I do know the spot by the curb;
I do not stop.