To the Thief Who Stole My Grandpa's Ring
I wonder why you stole it –
As a trade-in for some food?
To pay a debt or maybe just
‘Cause you were in the mood?
Perhaps you simply liked the style –
A squarish flat red stone
Set into gold, quite possibly
The nicest thing you’d own.
My grandpa made it easy –
In the hospital, in bed.
Was he still breathing when you took it
Or already dead?
As a kid, I liked to touch it,
Feel the smoothness of the gem.
My brothers liked it, too –
It should be worn by one of them.
But no, you had to have it
For the family, wracked by grief,
Didn’t think about the chance
Of being ripped off by a thief.
*This happened over 50 years ago but
I either never knew about it or had forgotten
it. My brother recently reminded me of the
story. A diamond lapel pin was also taken.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
