My Mother’s Bible

by Lucy M. Young

Alone, she sits in her cluttered home,
   Alone with her memories and dreams;
Waiting in vain for someone to call,
   But nobody cares, it seems.

Lonely and sad by the window she sits,
   Remembering days gone by
When her home was a busy, happy place,
   Filled with laughter and love and "small fry,"

Her children and grandchildren live nearby,
   All busy with their own affairs;
Not realizing how much it would mean to her
   To know that somebody cares.

Forgotten before her a cup of tea
   Grows cold as the shadows fall,
As cold as she feels in her empty house -
   Forgotten, rejected by all.

But wait, there is comfort close at hand
   And she clasps it close to her heart -
Her Bible, her constant companion and friend,
   A friend who will never depart.

As she reads the marked pages, her favorite lines,
   Peace enters her soul again;
And she knows in her heart she is never alone -
   Jesus walks with her to the end.

Now that Bible is mine. Although tattered and torn,
   Its message is very clear;
And it seems I can hear her quietly say,
   "Be happy, the Lord is near."



photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash