The One True Ring

The missing ring is here somewhere. Is it hiding in the pillows, or smirking behind the scarves? It may be covered in candle wax or suffocating beneath the pile of incense ash. The dark deep corners of the shoe closet are suspect; as well as the thick frayed edges of the Persian rug. Did the suction of the vacuum steal your presence and whisk you away a few days ago? You may already be on your way to new adventures on foreign fingers, in a land far far away. The leaves of the aloe plant, with their vicious spikes and curves, may have been be a potential landing zone. I haven’t the will or the inclination to scrape my skin quite yet. Soil embedded in my nails is never pleasant. Where are you? Will you sparkle for me?

My sneaky shiny silver friend
It is exactly where it should be
Inside the jewelry box

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