The Ring


My mother was in love

with her turquoise ring.

It lived on her finger.

She never took it off.

The ring meant

everything to her until,

she went to college.

Her beloved piece of jewelry

was left behind.


It sat lost in a drawer

for years till,

my grandma came across it.

She shined up the petite oval stone

and polished the silver band up.

Then Grandma bestowed it upon me

and said, “here it won’t fit your mom,

so you can take it.”

So the ring perches on my finger now.

It is my favorite ring.

The turquoise beauty is my mom,

and my most prized procession.

I wear it everywhere.

My mom is always with me.


One day, I hope

that it will be my daughters.

I hope she will adore it like

I do.

I hope she will gaze at it

with admiration and

realize wow,

“This was my mom’s and grandma’s.

I am so lucky that it is mine.”

Its loveliness will grace her finger.

Oh I hope,

she will cherish it just like

I do.

She shall find

her own piece

and comfort in the

tiny circle.

The ring is love to

to her and her daughter.


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