the room is dreary dark
and cheerless cold
and Missus Moffit sits there
growing old
sweet-salty memories
are her company
and for warmth she can’t afford
the electricity
a knock upon her door
brings her to her feet
she opens it and peers out
to the draughty street
a youth with bearded face
and tangled hair
says “Missus Moffit? ”
is that you there? ”
I’ve come from our Club –
we really want to do
whatever we can to help
the folk alone like you”
he holds out a large
bright bunch of daffodils
she takes them from him
and her whole heart fills
“Come in, come in” she says
“I’ll put the kettle on –
sit down, sit down
and make yourself at home”
The room is different now
no longer dreary
and Missus Moffit’s face
is far from weary
for on the table stands
a vase of golden flowers
lighting up with love and splendid showers
her solitary hours
written for a great aunt who dreams of 'days gone by'
Penny Hemans
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-knock-upon-her-door/
