the ring

was not That ring,

no magic power, hidden evil driving you crazy

though you surely wanted the ring

the ring of security and a magic power

the sureness may bring to the person who has it on

his hand...or was it her hand...

her hand had a ring

but the magic, was not in the ring

neither could it be in a ring, not in any,

not in one

the magic was in the whisper

of his voice

heavy with happiness as he leaned

close and whispered

'ti amo ti amo ti amo'

as if her presence, her sheer existence

was the only thing that mattered

on that island, laying on the grass

but it could have been the seashore

a hilltop

a tiny church

a garden

any place where she could just let go

let go completely and breath in him,

his kisses, his love

she sofness of the grass/sand/wood/flowerpetals

under her fingertips

reaching out to touch a fragment of the

reality

letting go of it and pushing of after 5 years of holding

back, letting go

and embracing the present.