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The
Locket |
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It
was tarnished and old, with a broken clasp.
I
tossed it into the drawer,
Why
did my mother give it to me,
And
what would I want it for. |
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She
said I liked it long ago, When
it was shiny and new. But
why she thought I'd like it now, I
really wish I knew. |
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The
years passed by, and my little girl,
Was
going through my things,
Slipping
bracelets on her arm,
And
trying on my rings. |
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"What's
this?" I heard my daughter ask,
As
she held it for me to see.
"Why,
It's just an old locket," I replied,
"That
your grandma gave to me." |
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"Oh
Mommy, isn't it beautiful?
It's
shaped just like a book,
with
pages you can turn inside,
And
pictures, Oh look, Mommy, Look" |
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I
saw it through a child's new eyes,
What
I should have seen from the start,
The
reason my mother treasured it so,
And
wore it close to her heart. |
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Now,
when I'm tempted to look on the surface,
Discounting
what's broken or old,
I
think of the locket, all tarnished outside,
With
an inside of purest Gold. |
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Author
Unknown |
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