Ringer

A few fast claps of the hand

after my favorite soccer team

scored a third quick goal 

and off it slipped.

I looked down and saw it

catch the late afternoon

rays of the sun 

as it descended 

to the section of seats below

and bounce

and bounce again.

I fixed my eyes on its resting spot

and looked at the people 

sitting around it, unaware.

I paused for a whole second

before quickly making my way

down to retrieve it.

I rushed past the usher

and down a few rows 

to where it rested,

its gold skin still glistening,

and put it back on my finger.

"No way I'm losing my wedding ring

after 34 years with my wife

at a game where the Red Bulls 

are winning,"

I explained to a curious onlooker.

And just as quickly

I returned upstairs to my seat,

to be with my wife 

for the rest of the match

and, God willing, 

another 34 years with my ring.