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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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