Mother has left us, her life’s work done.
Only one thing leaving, to me, just one.
It is her old Bible, all tattered and torn.
Each page is wrinkled, soiled or worn.
Its condition, atrocious, but not from abuse,
It happened through time, with frequent use.
From cover to cover, each page was read.
You can tell she loved it, by the life she led.
Many words are circled, verses underlined.
In the margins, other thoughts you will find.
Much time in reading, and study was spent,
Learning what was written, and just what it meant.
No greater treasure, could I possess,
Than that old Bible. I am so blessed.
Its condition has gone, from bad to worse,
As I’ve considered each note and underlined verse.
It now holds a place among precious things,
Not for its beauty, but for the memories it brings.
Every Mother should follow her example and leave,
A worn out Bible, to which her daugter can cleave.
No greater blessing, could a woman bestow,
Than a knowledge of a Savior, who loves us so.
Now that I know him, and his promises, won.
What more can I say, but, “Thanks Mom”
Your job is done.