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Twice now my ring has fallen

Beneath the same table

On a dark and much used carpet

Where potato and steak usually play

Twice now

Same place

Same table

But

Different company

The ring is special

The marriage finger

Although not wedded

And

Not intentional

By now it’s just a ring.

But what ghost does this?

It certainly must be my own..

My body shunning the bondage

Or just me having one, two, many Manhattans.

Limbs flying, body dancing in silliness.

The way it should be.

Let’s hope I’ve lost weight.

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