Return to Home Page Return to Anne Margetson Index The Guardian Each breath seemed to take every ounce of strength, Every movement caused an agony of pain, Was life worth it thought the sufferer? What can I gain? Being a burden to all those I love and no use at all. Troubled sleep crept over the pain weary soul, And he dreamed a vision so fair to behold. A large sailing ship with all her sails unfurled, Floating so gently on a pure bright silver sea. On board were friends long since left this life, Dressed in long robes of the purest white. Their faces gleaming with a perfect light That glowed till all around him shone with joy. ‘Come my son’ His father said, ‘You have suffered Long and hard, come join the heavenly throng There is no pain, there is no hate or any wrong Life is full of joy, this is where you belong’ By the shore a wicket stood barring his path, The handiwork was of the finest gold, An intricate pattern of leaf and flower bold, Unknown to mere mortal men young or old. He stopped, his hand outstretched toward the gate For there stood its keeper, tall, strong and kind. ‘Return dear friend to earth and there your joy find, Your time is not yet, but keep this view in mind’ He woke with pain and anguish in his weary soul, He did not know whether he should thank or curse The guardian of the gate, for his pain seemed worse. That sailing ship to heaven seemed so dear to him. A smiling nurse entered and soothed his troubled brow. A friend stopped by with flowers and a tender prayer. His family came and held him, it was good to see them there. Then came a get well card for all his friends at work. The next day he felt better and his strength return. Through the window the sky was a vivid blue, The flowers in the vase were lovely and he knew He had to thank the guardian who didn't let him through.   Ann Margetson Oct. 29 1996