The Ring Remembered Both Ways

A reed answered before the ring arrived.
Brandon heard hum at reed-dock inlet.
Across the fixed views, Aralynn waited
where frog-pond pebbles held the damp light.

Only the seed-filled promise ring traveled.
At chalk courtyard, wood answered tok.
Beyond the pond rim, one pebble met the ring
with a small, clear click.

Brandon remembered hum, then tok, then click.
Aralynn remembered click, then tok, then hum.
“Which beginning is right?” the ring seemed to ask.
Both orders belonged to the same crossing.

Hum—tok—click—pause:
from reed to wood to pebble, hold.
Click—tok—hum—pause:
from pebble to wood to reed, hold.

The chorus became directions.
One voice traced near to far.
One voice traced far to near.
The shared pause marked where they could meet.

Under the ring, three damp seed lines appeared:
one leaf line, one stem line, one bud line.
Brandon kept the reed-side edge open.
Aralynn kept the pebble-side edge open.

The leaf and stem nearly joined.
The bud line stopped before the final corner.
No hand filled the last space too soon;
the unfinished image waited for tomorrow.

Hum, tok, click, pause.
Click, tok, hum, pause.
Two true memories held one open picture,
and the promise ring rested between them.