The Dragon Ring

I’d been courting my Fiona

For a year or two, to date,

We’d been through the lovers’ gridlock,

Love, indifference, and hate,

On a good day we’d be soaring,

On a bad day we’d descend

To the pit of constant warring,

Though we’d make up, in the end!

 

And the making up was endless,

It was better than the best,

We would spend the day exploring

In our less than virgin nest,

And she’d cry for Mother Mary

At that last, and parting thrust,

When she saw my eyes adoring

At the zenith of our lust!

 

Then the day came when Fiona

Said she needed her own space,

Felt restricted, in a corner,

Had the need to run her race,

I must leave her to the options

That would straighten out her head,

It was that, or dare she say it…

(She would leave that word unsaid!)

 

But the word was ‘separation’,

And we both knew it was true,

And I felt her desperation

In my desperation too,

For the green-eyed god was rising

As her green-eyed goddess fled,

She was calm - how unsurprising!

When she left me there for dead.

 

I could see her on a Monday

And on Wednesdays, Thursdays too,

But the weekends were forbidden,

That was girls’ time, things to do,

So I sat and hugged my chagrin

To my chest, while staying home,

As my rank imagination

Stirred and festered as it roamed!

 

We would make love on a Monday

And pretend: ‘There’s nothing wrong!’

I would peer into her eyes to find

Just where her nights had gone,

But her eyes, they would avoid me

And she’d lost much of her lilt,

She’d sit quiet in the corner

In a mood I saw as guilt!

 

Then one Monday, as she showered

I went through her writing desk,

Ruffled through her private papers

Read her diary, as a test.

There was nothing too revealing

She had covered up her tracks,

But I found my eyes were stealing

To a box, well sealed with wax.

 

I loosened up the wax before

She came out in the cold,

And saw the ring she’d bought for me,

A signet, band of gold,

And on the ring a dragon, so

I knew it was for me,

I placed the box back on the shelf

Most surreptitiously!

 

A week or two went by, Fiona

Kept it to herself,

She never said a word about

The signet on the shelf,

I wondered when she’d offer it

I’d hoped it would be soon,

And went to buy a ring myself

That very afternoon.

 

We had a friend, Joe Burgess,

Who she’d known since she was four,

He often called around the flat,

Came knocking at the door,

I saw him in the supermart

He hailed me, with a grin,

As I went pale, and sick inside,

He wore a dragon ring!

 

But that was seven weeks ago,

We haven’t seen him since,

Fiona said: ‘It’s strange you know,

He promised me a quince!

And then he disappeared, I think

He might have woman strife!’

She laughed, and I was tempted, but

Put down the carving knife.

 

I thought back to the riverside

And how I’d rolled his car,

From off the steep embankment as

He’d struggled on the floor,

Fiona turned, and said: ‘Oh well;

It’s time that I came clean…’

And handed me the little box

That held the dragon ring!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[John]

I would have ended the relationship as soon as started making cliche about needing her own space. Well, here it is, I would say, and leave the house, forever!

I think the writer has succeeded when the reader starts taking the side of one or other character.

[TL Boehm]

ah yes, a wonderful twist on the lovers triangle. Well penned.

[David Scott]

Well done sir Paget. The lessons here are vast. How do things get to where they are? Reads like a greek tragedy. Fun

[BlackRose]

Did it again! Well done. Great twist on this love story.

[Fréyjä Helv..]

One of my fave poems and my fave poets... You never stop to amaze us with your poems and stories... Love your works sir..

[MoriartyMesa]

Always left speechless when I come across your work, the titles are never enough, the flowing is marvelous and so is the style.

[Cree Nations]

Oh my. I loved it. How quick we are to think so little of ourselves.

[Debbie_Philly]

Brilliant.... and amazing use of rhyme... you always have a great way of rhyming and making it really work... not everyone can do that.... great great piece !!!

[Tate Morgan]

I doubt I will ever say I have read enough Paget.The intricacies of the plots the depth of the characters,the fascination with the stories.I think if I had to characterize just what your writing has achieved the word might be immortality.