My Page

I began with an empty page; my life was clean and pure,

But now my page is not as bright as it was before.

My precious page once new and white has turned a different shade,

It's darkened, scratched, and slightly torn with the mistakes I've made.

Sometimes I imagine my page is clean and I can start once more,

Then I could keep that page of mine, white and clean and pure.

I begin to feel rotten, mad at what I've done, and see,

I was not becoming the person I had always wanted to be.

Then I remembered something, I'd been taught through all my years,

There was for me a savior, who would wipe away my tears.

If I would only turn to him, He'd reach out his hand, 

He would help me, bless me, and bring me through this land.

So I asked him to help me through all my pain,

He said, "My child, I'll help you. For this reason was I slain."

And so he took my battered page, and cleaned it with care, 

My precious page was clean again, I no more had despair. 

So now I know that if my page is ever scratched or torn,

I can ask my Savior for help, for me his pains were born.

And when again I see him, I'll to him quickly run,

He'll say, "My child, I love you. Rest, your work is done."

By: Natasha Smith, Age: 11