JULIE
I had a friend who was truly fair,
With hair of glistening gold.
Eyes of deepest violet,and lips just like a rose.
Every movement she made was graceful,
She was clever, witty and bright.
To every one that was near her
She filled with sheer delight.
We lived in a small country village
With little of worldly things,
With the weekly dance in the village hall
And the yearly county fair,
There was the crowning of the milk queen,
And the big christmas bazaars.
But naught she thought was for her in this place
So quiet and simple an sweet.
She wanted a taste of the city life,
Perhaps that would bring her some peace.
Just after her sixteenth birthday,
Just about harvest time,
She vanished we knew not where,
She packed two cases and left a note, saying,
Don't look for me, for I won't come back,
I want a life of my own.
The days past to weeks and still she was not found,
And weeks past to months and months into a year,
But life went on but for me a great gap,
My best friend was not here.
A few years later I married,
And I wondered where Julie might be,
For we had vowed as two small children
To be each others bridesmaid.
I wondered what she was doing or if she remembered me.
Did she think of the times when we were children
All those wonderful sweet memories.
We moved away to the city, and my family grew around
And I often told them of Julie, My dearest best friend.
One day as we were Christmas shopping,
The wind was icy and chill.
The children, their faces glowing and happy
Planning for all the gifts they could buy.
I hurried along with all five children in tow ,
My husband bringing up the rear,
When little David suddenly broke rank,
And came running up to me.
With tears in his sweet green eyes, he said, mommy
Can I give some of my money to the old lady there?
I smiled at the tenderness of his heart,
And felt ashamed that I hadn't noticed her need.
We gathered together and worked out how much each could give,
Then all went back to give her our Christmas gift.
She smiled her gratitude and gave a nod and said thanks,
I smiled into her eyes and she smiled into mine,
Something stirred within my heart from twenty years ago
But I was far to busy to stop and contemplate,
In springtime again I wandered down that same street,
And there still begging,
Was the woman wearing the same old cloths.
I stopped and smiled and opened my purse,
And give her a dollar or two
When the feeling crept over me again of familiarity.
I stooped down to where she sat and took her by the hand,
Do I know you my dear I said?
She turned her head in shame.
Her hair was matted and filthy,
But it could have been shimmering gold.
Her eyes were dull and lifeless,
But this did not hide the violet blue.
Julie, I stammered , and she bowed her head and just cried.
Look at me she said, I'm not the Julie you knew.
I'm dirty, drugged and old and just thirty five.
Come home with me and we'll talk,
Then you can stay with us.
She shook her head and walked away,
Don't you see I can't, she said.
I followed her not noticed till she found another spot
She looked around and settled to beg again
Not knowing that I was there.
I called her parents and told them and they were overjoyed
The didn't care that she was broken, dirty and unemployed.
They wanted her back so badly,
They had never given up hope.
I hoped that she would understand
That we all loved her so dearly
And wanted her back to give the love that was lost.
I picked them up at the airport
And hurried them down town,
We spoke very little as we travelled
But there was a prayer in each heart.
We walked down the street I first saw her,
But she was nowhere around.
We almost ran to her new place our hearts pounding as one.
There leaning by a sheltering wall
Was Julie her hands outstretched to all.
Her parents ran even faster,
Age shedding as they went ,
Julie, they cried with tears in their eyes,
It's your mom and dad.
Her face lit up for a moment,
Then stubborn pride hung on still.
You don't really want me I am dirty and wicked and ill.
A disgrace to my family and friends.
We walked her away quite gently bringing her back to the fold
The path will be hard and stony but with love it can be done.


M Ann Margetson October 1993