A sunbeam rests upon it, laying there in the familiar spot
The book…
Read from cover to cover, pages worn and written upon
Tear stains of memories and prayers, some answered, some still to be…
in my mama’s bible…
I watched her read it many times; her heart restored, as she kept the words of life
This Holy book is full of mysteries, stories that live in pages of red, black and
white…
Morning, noon, and night and even in between...
She read God’s word; would quote it, and tell you what it means…
Better than a pill you take, and certainly more satisfying;
The bread of life is sown upon, the pages, even when dying…
Oh beautiful are the feet of those, who spread the gospel message
Prophets and saints of old, died to give us passage…
Into the texts we read this book, wanting and longing, for just another look
Words of wisdom scribbled on edges, of my mama’s bible…
Nothing dearer, could she have given,
Than her old tattered bible, when she went to heaven…
A legacy of life is felt, as I watched her, at her bedside, when she knelt
Praying and reading her bible…
Help me God to do the same, this I pray in Jesus name…
I’ll keep reading mama’s bible.
By: Marla Shaw O’Neill December 28, 2015©
You've tugged at my heartstrings once again! My mother's Bible is precious to me too.
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