The Wedding Ring Poem by Sonny Rainshine

My mother bought her own wedding ring.

My father was too young to make much money
(it was the custom to marry young
in the South at that time)
and my mother did not want to wait.

He was devastatingly handsome
back then, she said.
I thought I was buying happiness,
a ticket out of my father’s tyranny,
an escape from boredom.

I’m sorry,
I said.

Oh, my money was well spent,
she responded,
as she hugged me
as if she would never let me go.

*****

She would tell this story
(and others)
many times before she died.
Most of these things happened
years before I was born,
before I began to write poetry
to put them into words
and finally comprehend
their beauty,
their aching sadness,
the love hidden within them.