One thing, nothing more,

One thing, one for sure.

How can one be worth it all,

Worth everything, big or small?

There is one prize valued most,

One that once belonged to a ghost.

It isn't money, or food, or clothes,

It doesn't have glitter or fancy bows.

Given by a loved one dear,

But still wishing it's past owner was here.

Reds, whites and glimmering gold,

Doesn't replace a grandmother's hold.

It isn't much, or the worth of the moon.

It's a little big and doesn't carry a tune.

But to me it is worth every breath that I take,

It is worth every hour, every smile that I fake.

Without it waves of loss and regret,

And the fear that she will be one I forget.

It is foolish and helpless to need this one thing,

Yet I can't live without it, my grandmother's ring