The Marble

When she was just two 
almost three, 
Grace helped Grandpa John
In the garden,
as happy as can be.

Near the carrots,
Oh, they weren’t nearly as grown,
Grace found a gift
She could keep as her very own.

She unearthed a marble,
buried long ago, 
by some a child or squirrel 
long forgotten 
Its origins unknown.

Solid red was the marble
and as shiny as if it were new. 
She carried it carefully into the house 
And introduced it to all she knew.

Often she would carry it
from room to room to room.
And explain the house to the marble
as only a two and a half year old can do.

Her other favorite thing to do
Was to to pinch it between finger and thumb.
Inevitably it would pop out of her grasp
and roll to parts unknown. 

The game continued, all of us helped,
in searching for her gift
Until one time no one saw
which way the marble went

It’s in our house somewhere,
Of that I am sure.
I hope some day it’s found again 
with a child’s love so pure.

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