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.
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