A girl standing by the gate
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Poem:		41341
I wandered through a heavy brush and saw her at the gate, Standing by a Shetland pony before a vast estate. Her hair shined of amber locks and dress a pampered white, She offered me a playful smile, much to my delight. I'm just a ragged beggar, a hopeless vagabond, What hinders my salutation? I fear she won't respond. She approaches with her pony and offers me her hand, It smelled of yellow daisies, so manicured and tanned. She did not look upon me but offered words of kind, And then I realized that this beautiful girl was blind. She knew me not a beggar, but just another man, I introduced myself to her and learned her name was Anne. I've traveled weary journeys, my path has gone astray, But standing here in front of her I know I've found my way. No passerby has ever taken time to chat with me, It seems they've always looked upon me as a charity. But Anne can see no grimy hands, no holes upon my shoe, She looks at me the same way in which she looks at you. She sees no velvet lining, no double-breasted hem, Nor does she see Italian shoes or family crested gem. She sees me as a person who happened around the bend, Thank you God for leading me on a journey to a friend.
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