Death Bed

My Grandma . . . . Jesus is so proud of her.

Death Bed

She held a plastic rosary,
left by the plastic priest,
symbolizing infinity,
or her long-held belief, in the least.

The priest would bring communion,
while we dropped our lines and prayed,
the one last good reunion,
as we left behind our busy day.

No one was scheduled too tight,
to see the small lady go.
Her humor, ever so light,
said what we needed to know.

For knowledge can be slippery
when hoarded for our own.
But Grandma, she held that rosary,
sharing what she's always condoned.