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 never

knew about it or had forgotten it. My brother

recently reminded me of the story. A diamond

lapel pin was also taken at the same time.