When I was cleaning out some old folders, I found this poem that I had saved. I have no idea who wrote it, but...

Somebody's Mother

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the winter's day;
The street was wet with a recent snow
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by,
None heeding the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street, with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of school let out,
Came the boys, like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow, piled white and deep,
Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way,
None offering a helping had to her
So weak, so timid, afraid to stir
Lest the carriage wheels or horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merriest troops,
The gayest laddie of all the group.
He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you across, if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so without hurt or harm,
He guided her trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went.
His young heart happy and well content.
"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor, and slow
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she's poor, and old and gray
When her own dear boy is far away."

~~ Unknown

Poems | Quips index page