The Lamp in the Corner

I wrote this poem years ago as I watched Grandma Pat Kelley slowly lose the abilities she had once carried so effortlessly. As I spent time with her, I found myself thinking of the many older friends who have enriched my life and whose lives have quietly changed with age. Too often, they seem to fade into the background as younger generations step forward. Yet the passing years have never diminished their worth. Their lives still hold wisdom, experience, and a quiet light that often goes unnoticed.

Today, as I watch my own mother walk that same path, this poem has taken on even deeper meaning. And if I'm honest, there are moments when I wonder whether my own season of usefulness is beginning to change as well. I suspect that feeling is one many of us share as the years pass. It has reminded me that our value is never measured by how much we can do, but by the love we have given, the wisdom we have gained, and the light we continue to carry within us.

I've also come to believe that each generation has its season. There comes a time to step back and allow younger hands to carry responsibilities we've long held, to learn through their own experiences, and to discover their own strengths. But stepping back is not the same as becoming less valuable. A life well lived continues to influence others long after the spotlight has shifted. It still comforts, guides, and blesses those who are willing to slow down, listen, and truly see.

I think I will do a rewrite on this poem as I have expreience and I have had times when I truly felt like "The Lamp in the Corner".

The lamp stands in the corner,
Tattered and worn;
Not quite what it used to be.
Yet one gentle touch,
With the softest of care,
Would reveal the light still to see.

But who takes a moment
For treasures left behind,
When newer things take their place?
For beauty and fashion
So capture the eye,
That memories fade without trace.

So quietly it lingers
Amidst all the new,
Worn weary by seasons gone by.
Gathering dust
On its weathered old frame,
While hope slowly fades with a sigh.

Yet one gentle touch
Is all that it needs
To let its bright light shine once more.
For love sees the beauty
That time cannot steal,
And treasures the heart at its core.

Changes.....Not sure....still doesn't feel like the flow I want. 

The lamp stands in the corner,
Tattered and worn,
Its colors softened by the years.
It leans with quiet grace,
As though time has asked much of it.
Yet still it stands.

One gentle touch
Could awaken the glow within.
A light that never truly left,
Only waiting
To be seen.

But brighter, newer things
Draw every eye,
While quiet treasures fade from view.

Still the lamp remains,
Holding years within its frame.
Dust gathers.
Hope flickers.
Yet the light endures.

All it takes
Is one gentle touch—
A moment of seeing,
A moment of care.

The light within
Was there
All along.