Grandmother never needed
any treasures on this earth,
but she had one prized possesion,
and you couldn't count its worth.
It sat upon her nightstand,
beside her cozy bed
right next to the lacy pillows,
where she would lay her head.
It was dusted every morning,
and reached for every night,
and the last thing that she would hold,
as she turned out the light.
It was thin, and worn and threadbare,
for it had stood the test of time,
but it had such special meaning,
I always wished that it were mine.
When her hands would reach for it
they caressed it with great care,
and she opened it with a special grace,
as though heaven put it there.
She would take it out and read to me,
the story of salvation,
of kings, of tribes, of all mankind
to the beginning of creation.
And I would sit in awe of all
the lessons that she taught,
of Calvary and victory,
the price which I'd been bought.
She is no longer on this earth,
and heaven is now her home,
behind she may have left me here,
though I never feel alone.
And sitting on my nightstand,
like a gift shared from above,
my Grandmother's cherished Bible,
still speaks to me with love.
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