Heirlooms

My mother left me a ring

A solid metal band bespeckled with jewels.

It adorned my grandmother's fingers

For years before it fit my own.

Father left my brother a watch

A big lumpy thing with clicking shiny links

It wrapped my grandfather’s wrist

For years before it chained his own.

My brother wears the ring now,

And I, the watch

He found no pleasure in checking the time,

And I disliked the ring’s uncomfortable weight.