On a cold park bench, enveloped in stench,
Slumped a woman—haggard, old,
With long, straggly hair, face wrinkled with care,
Clothes ragged—shivering, cold.
As I passed her by, idly wondering why
She was there, and whence she came,
She disturbed my cheer as Christmas drew near.
A mystery—and a shame!
But one little lad approached her, quite sad,
Stood quietly by her side.
They spoke not a word—least not that I heard—
And the woman softly cried.
The boy bowed his head and something was said
Between them. What could it be?
Then after a while, with a tearful smile,
She lifted the boy to her knee.
* * * * * * * * *
He offered the hag a gift from the bag
He had purchased for his Mum.
A porcelain cup from which she could sup,
That had cost a tidy sum.
And from his worn purse a coin he disbursed
Into her scarred, bony hand.
It wasn’t too much, but oh, it was such
A gesture—humble, yet grand.
So I stole away, embarrassed I’d say,
Compared to that little lad.
I hadn’t stopped there to show her some care;
He’d given her all he had.
When he left the crone on the bench alone,
Dark came to subdue the light.
The snow gently fell, I heard the church bell,
As day surrendered to night.
* * * * * * * * *
At Christmas Morn’s dawn, the old hag was gone,
As quickly as she’d appeared.
I heaved a great sigh as I hurried by
To the church that I revered.
But on my way back…on the bench, a sack,
Tied gaily in Christmas wrap.
On the card, the name of the lad who came
To sit on the woman’s lap.
* * * * * * * * *
He opened it up and pulled out the cup,
Ablaze now, silver and gold.
Reflecting the light, it blinded my sight—
My terror could not be told.
I fell to my knees, immediately seized
By shame for how I had erred,
Ignoring the crone, bereft and alone,
When my love I should have shared.
Though it sounds absurd, in my head I heard
The Lord’s voice, loving but stern—
You have been measured; I am displeasured.
Now you must listen and learn.
In all of your town, just one boy I found
Who took time to pay Me heed.
He came to My aid, together we prayed
In My hour of greatest need.
* * * * * * * * *
With sorrowful face, I asked for the grace
Of forgiveness, mercy, love.
His next words were clear, they rang in my ear,
Admonishing from above—
Take care how you treat the poor in the street,
They, too, are My children, you see,
And whate’er you do unto these wretched few,
You do it also to Me.
tallandtruetales 