Gold

Fell asleep on the couch, not quite on purpose. Hazy sunbeam woke me up, bouncing off of the ring. The ring that doesn’t fit anymore. Doesn’t fit in any sense.

Hazy sunbeams in an airless room on a July afternoon. Friends and family and way too crowded. The bride is beautiful, glowing and ripe.

The ring dangles from a black ribbon. Tiny diamond heirloom from another failed endeavor.

I do and I do and I will and I promise. Nerves and heat. Eyes everywhere, expectant.

The sun warms the color, making it appear deep and meaningful, but the meaning has changed. Matrimony to melancholy. Once she was my song, now she is my versus.

We cry joy and there’s cake served with chaos. Later there’s mountains and sunset.

Mesmerized for a moment. When did it stop fitting? When did it stop meaning? When did joy turn bitter? When did I?

We tumbled through years, decades. Danced and hurt, healed and danced again. Then the song was over.

This memory on a ribbon.

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