WELCOME HOME
Desolate, drab and dirty the woman sat,
Greasy hair hanging from under a filthy hat,
Gnarled hands, broken nails almost black,
Trying to keep warm under a soiled sack.

She thought back to better days awhile ago,
A flicker of a smile on her lined face did show,
As she remembered her old rocking chair,
Oh how she longed to be in the kitchen there.

The wind blew chill, snow began gently to fall,
And her soft warm bed and home she did recall,
Was it still there with the family all snug together?
It was her own fault she was out in stormy weather.

One day she had felt burdened down, had to run away,
The rest of the family looked for her many a long day,
She managed for awhile, but she longed to go home,
For a long time she had not wanted any more to roam.

Tears mingled with the snow and flowed down her dirty face,
Something touched her heart, maybe God’s sweet grace,
I’ll call home, they may be they are still there waiting for me,
She had a quarter, dialed, and waited what seemed an eternity.

“Hello, Happy Christmas,” a voice at last merrily replied,
“It’s me” she sobbed then just broke down and cried,
Her name was said in tender tone, with a love so strong,
“Can I come home, I’m sorry I did you all a great wrong”.

No one minded the dirt and filth as they hugged out there
In the cold icy wind and the snow blowing everywhere,
At last they were together, she had the courage to go home,
A loving family together, never more in the cold to roam.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson December 31, 2003