Somebody's Mother

The woman was old and ragged and gray,
and bent with the chill of the Winters 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,
Nor heeded 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.

Nor offered a helping hand to her,
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir.

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet,
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.

At last came on of the merry troop,
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 the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.

Then back across 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."

And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head,
In her home that night and the prayer she said

"Was God be kind to that noble boy,
Who is somebody's son, pride and joy!"

This poem, I'm sure you can tell was written in a time much different than
ours. It came from an old book of poems, I found at a yard sale
several years ago, it is dated 1974. This poem doesn't
necessarily depict elder abuse, per se, but it does give us a
general idea of the feebleness of our elders. I believe
we have much to learn from them, if we would only take the time to
listen. My own grandparents had many stories to tell, some I
have heard time and again, but I wouldn't trade those stories for
the world, for my grandfather is gone now, and I am far away from home,
so those stories that they told, only live in my
memory now. So glad am I that I took the time to listen!

Please, help stop elder abuse.