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My Father's Wedding Rings

The gold band you had worn
since those smiles snapped in
black and white,

slipped from a finger whittled
to the bone with age and illness,
to reveal another ring

of unblemished skin, white
as thrown rice. Its carat worth
incalculable.

Stephen Bone

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If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Stephen Bone would be pleased to hear them

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