The Bell

It's displayed upon my mantel
This relic from the past;
The bell, when rung by her sick child
Would bring our mamma fast.

Thought the gilt has worn away a bit
It still rings the same tone
That brought me to the bedside
Of a sick child of my own.

Perhaps it cost a nickel
That bell when it was new;
But now no sum could buy it
With its memories so true.

If that small bell brings comfort
To a grandchild, when I'm gone,
I will pass it on most gladly.
Mamma's legacy lives on.

By: Joyce 7/16/06