Before Granddad’s death,
you were Nanny’s,
but now you’re here,
hiding, away in my bedside table.

A friend calls you,
“the nose-ring”
I never looked at you in that way before.

The gap on the side, just being able to slip over my wrist,
and the note that came with you,
makes you special, looking unlike any other,
that I’ve seen before

Round, coated with gold,
connections with family from overseas,
still alive and gone,

The journey you took, from the other side of the world,
For a couple of weeks, must have been frightening,
being sent just for me,

I’m too afraid you will disappear,
like Granddad,
that I’ll never see again.