It looks forlorn upon its shelf
Remembering the day
When tender hands, its pages turned,
As on your lap it lay.
Those days are gone, and bittersweet
As challenge causes pain,
When we recall your care for us,
And seek your touch again.
But, Mother, you have left your print
Upon your Book...and me;
Diminished by the loss of YOU,
But strengthened, still, by THEE!.
The God you knew and served EACH day,
HE'S with us as we go;
So be in peace your Book and I
Survive....and EVEN grow.
The seed you planted found GOOD soil...
Not scattered in the stones;
Has taken root, is strong, ALIVE,
And reaching t'ward YOUR home!
Read more articles by Howard L. Pierce or search for articles on the same topic or others.
