Whenever I hear the doorbell ring,
My Soul, it begins to joyfully sing,
Hoping it be the man that gave my wedding ring.
But soon disappointed, my hands I do wring.
And when the phone begins to ring,
Wild hope again takes to wing,
Only to know that too was nothing.
In frustration, towards the heavens my arms I fling,
But still resolving- to prayer and hope to cling,
That some day, he will return,-my beloved man whom I wear as a ring.