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.

[Clayton Bardwell]

I wonder how many boxes, sealed with wax, had she known?

[Lena M. P.]

We all know what assume means LOL and it seems the green eyed monster lurked it's had again. Nicely spun David. You have found your muse again.

[Marie]

Oh my goodness--what an awesome ballad. The story's not a new one, yet I was totally surprised at the end. But how could he have known...?

[w]

Women are a fickle bunch, but the jealously of men remains untouched.

[That_Girl]

Haha and here I thought I had it all figured out. Tsk tsk. Nicely done.

[cynthiabuhainbaello]

Poor Joe Burgess! Intriguing love story again well-written as only you can. The rhythm and the rhyme is perfect, the narrative's pace engaging, and the surprising twist in the end lines complete this truly remarkable write! (Too bad I don't believe in praying to the "Mother Mary")

[MOON]

Ha ha is this what it means jumping to conclusions ! Lovely write as usual.

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

I really liked it very much, it is ironical, it made me smile a little. I think it is real humor and the rhythm is well chosen to tell the whole story. This woman here is a kind of female Iago herself. That tiny little circle in a triangle is the necessary salt and pepper to this story. Comedy is tragedy - plus time.