The old woman and her rosary,

I see her every day.

 With ancient pain deep in her eyes,

She grips it tight to pray.


It is her dear companion,

Her best friend in time of need.

Old fingers dance in silent prayer,

Then slide from bead to bead.


She thinks upon its mysteries;

 Christ’s life upon this earth,

 Of her old age and wasted days,

And what her life is worth.


About her youth and by gone years,

When she was taught this prayer.

So glad to be in “Mary’s” hands,

Wrapped up in her wheel chair.


Throughout her day she prays for souls,

For those whom she knows not,

So grace and mercy fall on them,

And they are not forgot.


In tattered robe and old house shoes;

Soft habit which she wears.

She offers up her daily pain,

With every whispered prayer.


My Mamma and her rosary,

 I see her every day,

With faith in God deep in her eyes,

She grips it tight to pray.


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~ Donna Sue Berry ~

May 17th, 2013

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