Old Soul

She was an 'Old Soul' so they said. One who had been 'here' before With her collection of herbs hung behind her door, was a cobweb, and a spider she called Fred. She was a loner, kept self to self. Cared not at all for material wealth, But if needed by sick,those failing in health. With her stick she would rush to their side. She would tend through the night, till morning light, but never a penny would take. Though solitary working, never shirking. To try to ease everyones sickness and ills. Now as time ebbs away, she's unable to stay, For her own health she is not able to mend. As she's reaching her end, all she asks for my friend. Is to remember her with love, And if you remember, and look up above. The form of a solitary dove. Will be her,in her feathery down, smiling down, and returning your love