The ring on her finger
Meant nothing to me.
For despite all her warnings,
We continued to see.

Her body was beauty,
Her hair long and red.
Our love for each other
Came out in bed.

We made love in hotels
While he was away.
Our passion for each other
Blossomed more every day.

 Our bodies entwined,
She was so hot to hold,
But I still saw on the shelf
That ring made of gold.

One night while we lay there,
All covered in sweat,
A man with a gun
Burst in, and we met.

I leave the old church
To a place just out West,
Followed by lines of people
And then laid to rest.

©  Graham, 2000

"This is one of my favourites written by my friend Graham ~ I don't know,
it has a kind of depth to it that touches me.  The secretiveness, the mystery of
the clandestine affair....and the consequences.
For more of Graham's poetry, please visit him at
Graham's Realm of Wonders."