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Monday, July 14, 2014

The Lake - My Grandma's Poetry



     by Hilda Harder 

Beside the lulling, lapping lake I sit

And stare at great expanse of sky and water.

Awed by the glories in the girth of it,

And I made small in size

Another pebble on the shore.

Is there a God who masterminds it all,

And balances within His hand, this earthly ball?

Idle hand sifts sand o'er idle hand,

And there between my fingers, an agate caught

Whose opal centre gleams glistening in the sun.

So life must be strained, lest all be naught,

And the last great pearl of life remain unfound,

And life at it's end be void and vacant ground.

I wrote that many years ago and have since found the answer. Those who search will find I feel sure!! Hilda.

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