She opened up her jewel box
As she did most every morn
To don the golden wedding ring
(As his wife) she'd never worn

A glint of something caught her eye
Written in the band
She found a magnifying glass
To see the scripted hand

The 29th of August
Near forty years gone past
Was dated in the British style
Inscribed inside to last

She wondered at the couples names
Imagined who they were
How this token of their love
Came to be owned by her

She thought of them in London
Perhaps on an estate
Having tea together
Beyond a gardens gate

Was their love forever?
Or cursed, as hers was fated
Did one pass on beyond the veil
While the other-lonely- waited?

It is not known, their story
Just that they were gone
Their names, alone, remain to tell
The tale of Fran and Ron

Her tears now dried and ever spent
She put her ring away
Tomorrow, take it out again
As she does most every day

She'll think of Ron and Frances
And pray their hearts were true
Lending hope for kinder fates
And a time for her love, too!