With the ring back on your finger
you sighed and slipped away
but forever it’s a mystery
where you went that day
Did you see them watching you
and whispering in your ear?
When you took your final journey,
did you know that they were there?
Did you sense that we were not?
No-one can ever know,
yet child-like we still ask ourselves –
that day, where did you go?
beeblu blog 
a mystery that will never be solved, until we ourselves experience it. Where did you go? Would that we could know beforehand. Lovely thoughtful poem. xPenx
Thanks, penpusherpen. Yes, perhaps we find out the ultimate truth when we experience it ourselves. Time will most definitely tell…
Hi Bluebee, This is everything one could ask for from a poem. It leaves me wondering and thinking and admiring.
Thanks for your kind feedback, Monica.
Beautiful with an underlying sadness.
Thanks, frayedges.
I have seen someone just before they slipped away once, and another person shortly after. Both were elderly and it was their time. It was strange being in the same room (hospital in both cases)as these people who were taking their final journey. I felt like I wasn’t worthy to be there, like something very great was happening. It was humbling. Both people were at peace with where they were going. Maybe that added to the feeling that something big was happening.
Something we all think about quietly- your poem expressed the mystery beautifully.
Thanks for your interesting insights, Zoë
And where were we before we were born? An existential poem to get me cogitating on this hot, muggy day 🙂
Ha, ha, Gabrielle, maybe vegetating in the nice cool ocean would be more rewarding 🙂
slipped out for some ice cream…’cause everybody knows “i scream …you scream …we all scream for ice cream!”
But he new you’d be fumin’ when you didn’t get yours!
Here’s a song to hit a little closer to home.
I dunno, 2zpoint. Do you think there’s ice-cream in the afterlife?… 😀
It’d be heaven if there was!
Only if there are no associated calories! 🙂
A beautiful and poignant poem which leaves me questioning about the after-life, wondering about life before we came to earth…and what life is all about anyways.
That’s the sign of a good poem, my friend, when you can leave your reader wondering and carrying your thoughts with them throughout the day.
I wrote a poem called “Now He’s Dancing” which might offer some answers 😀 Would love you to read it if you get the chance…
http://chloerichmond.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/now-hes-dancing-re-post/
Cheers, Chloe xx
Thank, Chloe 🙂 And thanks for sharing your lovely poem “Now He’s Dancing” – in times of adversity, sadness and crippling old age it is indeed these good memories that keep us going
Hi–this is lovely, full of sadness but without sentimentality. It makes me wonder about the back story.
Hello khm – thanks very much for stopping by and commenting. The poem is really about the day my Dad died – when he became ill, he got very thin and his wedding ring kept on slipping off his finger. So my Mum had it resized which took a whille and when she finally got it back, he was already unconscious and died not long after she put it back on his finger.
Glad you explained bluebee – I read it as someone having maybe come out of surgery (as they take all the jewellery off you) and then putting the ring back on. Sorry about your Dad – my Mum passed recently and it brings up so many emotions – can’t really write about it just yet – one day. Thanks for sharing.
Hi Gabrielle – thank you for this. I saw that your Mum died this year and that she was obviously greatly loved by your family. My Dad actually died more than 8 years ago and I am only able to write about everything surrounding that time now, so I understand fully.
A most moving write, especially after seeing your comments here about your dad.
Thank you, Don.
So many mysteries about this poem. To sigh and slip away — by choice, in death, with regret, to another life, leaving loved ones behind? I want some answers, Bluebee!! Love re-reading your poems.
To have you re-read my poems is a great compliment, Monica. Thank you. bb