Ring Finger Ring finger The wait continues And all the while, The weight of emptiness Bears heavily on my soul. The yearning for desire Is an ironic reminder of why My ring finger is still bare After all these years. "Bare as the day I was born" As they say-and they say lots of things; Such as, 'any chance of a grandchild soon?', 'who'd want to marry that?' And 'always the bridesmaid, never the bride...' Never the bridesmaid, I say. But always the onlooker; longing, sighing, imagining...... I wince at the thought of children But, yet, simultaneously I indulge myself With colour schemes for the nursery, names, even schools they might go to If ever I should be so blessed- Or cursed-still not sure. Then again, who is? How?Why?When? And at what cost, is the overriding reason that I sit, at 6am, contemplating my navel.

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