True Love

She wore his ring nearly fifty years.
He’d slipped it tenderly on her finger
as a symbol of their love –
pure, true,
no beginning, no ending.
Hand in hand they set about their journey;
pushing, pulling one another up steep mountains,
resting, holding one another in peaceful valleys,
breathing, drinking life in.
From poorer to richer,
through thinner and thickest,
they shared their love;
learning, together,  to become stronger in
their weakest moments.
Loving without reserve, without question,
from health to sickness,
through good days and bad,
at one another’s side;
grateful for the years they shared,
the colorful canvas of memories they painted,
the lyrical moments they cherished, too perfect to believe.
Now, as he sits at her bedside,
she journeys alone.
He soothes her last worries,
dries her saltiest tears,
struggling to hide his own.
Softly, prayerfully,
he strokes her fragile hand,
and tenderly kisses her worn gold ring.