Saturday, January 23, 2010

A Matching Poem to The Iron Ring

The Gold Ring

I first felt the warmth of a craftsman's hand
a plain gold circlet, a plain gold band.
Then clasping the warmth on the hand of a King.
The jeweller's gift, a coronation ring.

For twenty years his hand I graced,
and then his son's, who took his place,
then the neck of his grandson's bride.
Wed for power, wed for pride.

She wore me on a chain of hair.
I was greater than her hand could bear,
then passed to the finger of her son,
seen the wars and empires won.

Now I lie warm 'gainst a feathered breast
clasping a bone, in a corby's nest.


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