Hand Me Down

You’re more than welcome to its tiny stone

(Not even half-a-carat) mounted on

A band you’re just as welcome to as well.

Now that the one who wore it once has gone

To ashes, treat this ring as if on loan,

And not a thing that anyone can own—

A pledge that you might pawn, but never sell.

 

As heirlooms go, it isn’t much—a jewel

So piddling that it almost can’t be seen.

But for its task it served as certain witness

That the one who wore it had said yes.

So now its meager flash and dullish sheen

Need not be held against it as to fitness

For a symbol of a love that’s dual.

 

As for the future, who can ever tell?

Perhaps there’ll come a day when some fine son

May ask to have it when his mother’s done

With any use for it, to cast the spell

He wishes will convince some hoped-for wife

To say her yes, and wear it all her life.