She threw her ring on the floor and stormed out.
And, while others moved away and came back to say hello,
she did not.
The ring remained on the floor.
When he finally did leave
taking his words and things to a new home;
he left the ring on the floor,
hoping she would return to find it.
Wooden doors and glass windows,
scattered papers, occasionally some bed clothes.
Their dreams hung like dust in the air;
ghosts walked the room and
the ring remained on the floor.
The room grew hollow, dour.
The only light was through a partially shaded window. It burned brightly during the day, then dim and finally dark at night, starry and starless again and again.
The ring remained on the floor.
Was it forever? Could have been.
And that room never changed.
Liquid clear blue dawns passed.
Outside his window dawns were blue and cool and lonely.
Dust of pictures past and moisture from the sky
forms earth,
allowing new growth.
The house was swept away and the land flattened.
Tall buildings come to stand in the space the houses once knew –
each that contained a room with a ring on the floor.
Even as others moved away and others moved in,
the ring remained on the floor.
Life changes constantly, things never change.