It is my time to go
And to face my Great Maker.
My days are at an end
So comes the undertaker.
I'm not sure what is next.
I'm just a little worried.
I have done the best I could
But I was too often hurried.
An antiquer's life is hard,
Lift and load, fix and clean
Then face the customer's snarl
As they deride, insult, demean.
But my stuggle is now over
My back will hurt no more
A new world is ahead of me
As I face my Savior's door.
What would be the verdict
As I view the streets of gold
Had I lived a life that was worthy
To be included in the fold?
I looked around for answers
And then I began to see
Some strangers were approaching
With their arms outstretched to me.
The first was a dear old lady
Who met me with embrace
"Thank you, Dear, for caring
About that broken vase"
It came from my dear father
Upon my wedding day
You saved it from the trash truck
To be cherished along the way.
And then there was another
Who grabbed and shook my hand. |
A former slave he had been
When wrong was on our land.
He said, "I know the paper
That you patched and then preserved.
It proved my life in slavery
A life so undeserved!"
"You touched the paper with kindness
As if you could have changed my fate
And now I get to thank you
As you stand at Heaven's gate"
I recognized the WWI soldier
Whose picture I had held.
His wounds were gone, not to return
As his history he unveiled.
They told me all the secrets
And stories from long ago
Associated with the items
That I had come to know.
There were so many to love me
I was shocked to see them all.
They were not dead, but living!
And all with memories to recall.
They thanked me for my efforts
And it was just as I had guessed
Although it may be very hard,
An antiquer's life is blessed.
I was invited in to sit
With the chosen and elite
I really wasn't very surprised
To see the antique seat.
It was a great and glorious moment
To be included with the meek
And now I had the answer to ...
"If only it could speak..." |
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