There's a wedding ring in my bookcase.
It belonged once to my mom.
It came to me after she died.
I've been doing my best to keep it warm.
Some day I may still need it,
but it's getting hard to imagine what for.
Nobody else seems to want it
and I don't look at it much anymore.

It's been a lot to carry.
She passed away when I was 14.
I don't know if I'm ever going to marry.
I'm the type that's leave-able, it seems.
I keep it there in the bookcase
by some books I'll never read.
It's just nice to know that it's sitting there,
should I ever have the need.

I ran into the woman
whose finger I would've put it on.
She said it was nice to see me
and introduced me to her son.
I looked him in the eye a while,
gave him a smile, and it was time to move along.
I'm happy enough for her, I guess,
but my smile sure felt painted on.

It would've been a mistake if we had stayed
anything more than friends.
So that kid ain't mine, and that's alright.
I'll probably never see him again.
But I do regret the things I said and did
that made her run to other men
and left the ring I almost gave her right where it's always been.

Maybe someday I'll find someone
to take that ring away from me.
Or maybe I'll buy her a new one
that someday my own kid can keep.
But until that day, I guess I'll pray
for some grace to fall back on.
And I'll keep looking at the bookcase wondering
what's taking me so long.