My friend Charlie was a gentle soul
Whose virtues I can readily extol.
He came to us a lovely old gent
Aged, withered and physically bent.
Blessed with a mind as sharp as a tack
Which often gave us all an anxiety attack.
There was nothing He could not do.
But his age limited what he should pursue.
His sense of reason became dim.
Fear crept in at the thought we might lose Him.
Signs were so subtle and insidious
For all of a sudden he was less factious.
Every now and then, a look of pain crossed his brow.
When questioned he certainly would disavow.
However, we could not ignore the anguish on his face.
That no matter how hard he tried he could not erase.
The years flew bye and we marveled at his tenacity
To greet each new day with such audacity.
The only thing we knew for sure was his ability
To hand it all to the Lord, especially his fragility.
Each day began with a prayer to thank Jesus.
And each day ended with a prayer to Jesus.
Waking hours He could be found in quiet repose,
With his hands folded in a prayerful pose.
Down deep in my heart I loved this old fellow.
Whose demeanor was so mellow.
He somehow knew his days were numbered.
He gave up every item he owned to be unencumbered.
He gave me a worn Bible nearly 100 yrs old.
One he had used daily I am told.
This has become a prized possession.
One I would cherish without any question.
Now that my dear friend has gone to claim his award
I'm sure he resides with our loving Lord.