The Portrait

Therewas a portrait

Used to hang right here,

A prominent placeon the wall,

Ofan old man

          His face weathered with years,

                    His dark eyes saying it all.

Iremember the way

          His eyes seemed to follow

                    As I solemnly walked pasthis gaze.

Itwas like he was there

          To watch over me

                    And protect me the rest ofmy days.

 

Thisold house is coming down.

Theysay it’s not safe.

Iguess that it’s probably true.

There’sno one around,

Noone left to remember

Whenit was all shiny and new.

Buta house is just walls,

Aroof and a floor

Whereyou can come in from the cold.

It’sthe people who live inside her portrait

Whoare worth more than silver and gold.

 

AndI think of that portrait

          Where it hangs today

                    Of my guardian angel withwings.

Andit fills me with hope

          And joy beyond measure until

          My heart fairly sings

Withthe peace of mind that portrait brings.