The Custodian… a poem

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THE CUSTODIAN

It was the custodian who showed me grace.

Never did he wear a frown.

Always, he had a smile on his face.

Hands rough from labor

Clothes dirty and brown.

But, when looking into his caring eyes

You could tell that God was there.

Maybe it was the twinkle.

Maybe the gray in his hair.

Maybe it was something else

I guess I’ll never know why.

And though the years have trickled past

I still remember him from time to time.

The gentle, kindly, sweet old man

That always had time for a laugh.

Thank you, Lord, for all that you do,

And for putting that man in my path.

Author: What Words May Come

Hopeless romantic; joker; father and grandfather; husband; sportsman; part-time writer;

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