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.