A Dinner of Thanksgiving

She was just a bent old lady
Her hair was full of gray
I was just a child of seven
Who had stepped outside to play.

Her dress was worn and tattered
She looked so frail and thin
But her eyes were warm and caring
And she kindly asked me in.

As the morning hours were fading
I recall her gentle plea
“Please stay a little longer
And enjoy a meal with me.”

I had no way of knowing
That her shelves were nearly bare
But it didn’t really matter
She was glad to have me there.

The meal was small and meager
But I felt like I’d been blessed
When I sat there at the table
And she served to me her best.

In honor of her memory
This moment I will seize
To be thankful for the bounty
When we shared a bowl of peas.

I am humbled by her spirit
Unblemished through the years
She’s smiling down from heaven
As I wipe away these tears.

For she, too, still remembers
That warm delightful day
When a little girl of seven
Had stepped outside to play.

~ Marilyn Ferguson ~

[ Author: Marilyn Ferguson Copyright © 2002 -- submitted by: Marilyn Ferguson ]