Inside the Band
I am yellow gold, worn thin beneath
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Inside the Band
A plain gold wedding band sits in a dresser drawer, behind the batteries and the spare key, after the hand it was made for married someone else. It remembers the borrowed room where it was slid on, the solder seam from being resized that first spring, the dishwater and cold mornings of the years between, and the Tuesday it was set down beside the soap dish and never picked back up. It notices the other band on the finger it used to sit on, and it asks for nothing.
I am not the years you lived / I am only what you wore
Listen for solo piano, a voice kept level with the room, and a cello that arrives only at the bridge. This is a quiet track for packing a drawer, for a long drive alone, or for any hour when something you no longer use is allowed to stay exactly as it is.
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