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Poetry
by
M. B. Baldwin



  Freddy

He always amazed me.
His house was cleaner than mine,
his beef stew was perfectly seasoned,
his instant coffee never too strong or weak,
and he lived alone,
but he never complained of being lonely.

But I learned that:
He felt the dirt
beneath his fingertips and feet;
He could season the stew with his nose and tongue.
He always used a level measure of coffee
and the amount of water was always exact,
measured just to the tip of his finger
waiting inside the rim of the cup;
He had his books:
He could explore their stories for hours,
and his eyes would never tire!
He had his Bible:
With his LORD, he was never alone.

We must have walked many miles
hand in hand, up and down the street,
on our trips to the grocery store
and the post office.
He always knew which fruits
and vegetables were the best,
or if a heavy envelope needed an extra stamp.

He never saw me coming,
but he knew my footsteps in the hall
and greeted me at the door
each time I visited.
He made me feel welcome
with his cheerful face,
and there was always a hug.

Freddy, I almost said to him
one evening when I came to see him,
Why are you sitting here in the dark?
But then I caught myself:
Do you mind if I turn on a light?
Of course not, he smiled, knowing.
I knew then, by his smile,
that his world was not really dark at all.



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