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The Locket

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.

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.

The years passed by, and my little girl,

Was going through my things,

Slipping bracelets on her arm,

And trying on my rings.

"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."

"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"

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.

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.

Author Unknown




Music Playing "Tears in Heaven"