the best is yet to come

A poem I found after my grandmother passed away...  It was written on scratch paper and in a box my mother gave me. 
"Let not the trial of this dark day destroy your perspective; the best is yet to come. When walls of gloom surround you, think on this; 
the best is yet to come. 
In rosey glow of joy and happiness, it still holds true; the best is yet to come.
I lost my love at 24, he came to me at 38, 'twas perfect joy. The years I cried to see my mother toil were followed by her aging years of comfort and of peace.
My years of deep depression and despair were followed by an understanding that opened doors to precious fellowship.
Yet this, at 80, I can say, as I see every sun rise from the sea, I'm sure; 
the best is yet to come.   -Bertha Allshouse Dimock"

My blip today is a close up of a journal page I did with part of this poem. I will put the whole journal page in the extra photos . . .