THE VISITOR

THE VISITOR

She lived alone up on the hill
And most days were not bad;
She mowed the lawn, planted flowers
And was hardly ever very sad.

Years went by and old she grew
Her life was almost gone -
Yet she'd get up every morning
To listen to the birds song.

Her children told her she should move;
She couldn't handle it all now!
They didn't have the time to share
In the work there, anyhow.

She closed her eyes and welcomed sleep
She knew they were making a plan
To have her move away from there,
And this she did not understand.

A nursing home might be the key
To making sure she was all right;
They often worried about her
Being alone up there at night.

She had collected many things
Over the years of her life -
What to do with all that stuff
Was causing them some strife!

What to do with her treasures?
Some might sell, of course!
She probably will leave debt behind
And cause us all remorse -

While they sat and talked about it
She still sat up there alone -
Wondering why they didn't call
Or sometimes stop back home.

The neighbors would go by and wave
But they were busy with their work;
No one stopped in to smell the flowers
'Twas a chore they all would shirk.

One night she got her Bible down
To read just a verse or two -
She heard a knock upon the door
Then twice more, she wondered who?

She tried to get up from the chair
To answer the knock at the door
But found she couldn't make it -
And collapsed upon the floor.

Bathed in a brilliant golden light
He stood before her there -
Reached down, took her hand in His
And she was freed from care.

In the little cemetery they
Placed flowers by her stone -
And the inscription there
Simply said "I have gone home"

Now the little house upon the hill
Stands silent in the night,
Yet sometimes gets a visitor
For some have seen her light...

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