My Grandmother

My Grandmother
By Rebekah L. Perkins

Her steps are slow, and hard to take,

Her arms, with little effort start to shake,

Her hands are wrinkled, calloused and tough, 

And her voice is feeble, broken, and rough.

Her eyes grow dimmer as weeks go by,

I see her struggle, I see her try,

But it seems I see behind her trailing, 

Her memories; her mind is failing.

So many things have escaped from her mind,

So many years, all on rewind,

No longer can she even recall my name,

Though she knows she loves me all the same.

Though life's time has taken it's toll,
In one thing she remains strong and full,
No bodily ailment could make her forget,
The truth on which her whole being is set.

No matter what trials may come her way,
No matter what people do or say,
She relies on her wonderful Savior above,
And her spirit is filled completely by His love.

Her love for God is impossible not to see,
For she showers it on others freely,
And though every passing day brings new struggles for her,
In her Lord she remains consistently sure.

Though every step is a struggle to take,
And small effort causes her hands to shake,
Though her mind is feeble and her body is old,
 My Grandmother, she is a beautiful woman to behold.