The Kindest Piece of Paper

Knocking every door Polite or rude A poor sales boy walked. A burning stomach And a load of unsold goods Dragging his tired feet He walked to yet another door. A young lady answered His modest heart Could only ask for a drink. But she saw The hunger in his eyes And tears lingering At the corner of his eyes Waiting to break out. She brought out A glass of milk. The hungry mouth drank And his little heart Thanked this angel. Times and years passed Like silent whispers And the kind lady Now grew old and ill And no physician could cure. But one came forward And nursed day and night And she woke to a new life. Her grateful eyes searched To see that kind Doctor. The reply came as a bill The old hands hesitantly opened And her eyes cried and sparkled At the kindest piece of paper That lay in her hands And the words lay “Paid in full with one glass of milk”