THE LIBRARY
I was shown into the library that cold day,
Told to sit and wait in a very formal way,
A fire was set but not lit, the air was chill,
It seemed to eat away at my wavering will,
The books were old, looked unused and sad,
Hundreds covered the walls, I wished I had
Just a few of those treasures to call my own,
I wondered why into this room I was shown.
The door opened and an old, tall man came in,
I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone quite that thin,
His skeletal hand outstretched to shake mine,
I noticed the cut of his clothes was very fine.
As we shook hands the grip chilled me to the bone,
For hands felt as cold as any icy carved tomb stone,
Yet his blue eyes showed warmth and deep caring,
I hope he had not noticed how much I was staring.
“You read to my wife when she was very ill I hear,
Told her stories, brought to her comfort and cheer,
Not knowing she was a lady with wealth and land
Just to do some service I am lead to understand?”
“She needed me, I did not even know her last name,
Just little Amy, she looked forward to when I came,
I told her stories I told my children when they were young,
And often sang to her some old favourite hymnal song.
She seemed to have no one who was able to visit or call,
I took in children and when they came down the hall
You should have seen her face light up with sheer joy,
Especially one twisted crippled Down Syndrome boy.”
Great big tears welled up into those old, still bright eyes,
He told me a story with many sobs and hurting sighs,
Of the loss of a Downs Syndrome boy when only age ten,
A child full of love and they called him simply Ben.
A gift he wanted to give me for my kindness shown
To his dear wife who had been left in hospital alone
He could not visit often and it always tore him apart,
Anything I wanted, he said for having a kind heart.
Just her favourite book and a sweet lavender sachet
For they will help me remember her in a special way,
He stretched out and took a tattered book gave it to me
And a note to say that when he died I’d have the library.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 20 September 2004