The Ring Stone
That stone in my index finger,
placed royally as a ringer,
It shone sharp,
with every ray of falling light,
and to behold it was a sight,
my line reader had commended,
the stone to me,
that it will protect,
and ward the grave danger,
as well smaller ones it will detect,
the day I was on my saw machine,
there was something curious,
and to other side I was all preen,
the saw ran through my hand,
and chopped the index finger,
the finger lay severed,
ring still shone,
but this time it had not warned of the danger.
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