At the bottom of a well
lies a silver ring
looking up at a silver moon
lost now this past 50 years.
(She gasped as it slipped and fell
from her now too thin finger
after the birth...and death
of a baby girl)
and tears fell
as hopelessly she watched it fall
into a future
that a silver ring dreaming
of a silver moon
couldn’t possibly foretell
of a stranger
finding this strange ring
pregnant and precious only
with the tale
it conceals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have got a veritable book of you in the 'My Poemlist' and I can't help but add to it. It's very rarely I don't like what you do and I'm just a sucker for your love poems. This is like a beautiful modern-day fairy tale told to the little girl inside of me who still responds in the same way I would have when...I was that age! Loved it! Gina XXX