I have learned on good authority,
There are angels all around us,
And most often we are unaware
They do indeed surround us.
You cannot tell by looking,
They're too many shapes and sizes,
And those you'd think were angels
Might be folks with good disguises.
They can't be picked out from a crowd,
Or sorted out from strangers,
And I would bet you'd never guess
One could be your next door neighbor.
The odd thing about one's neighbors
Is you think you know them well,
So, if one really were an angel,
Surely ... you could tell.
Well, that depends, my naive friend,
On how you view the lot,
For I have this funny neighbor,
Who, I'm sure you'd say, was not.
Perhaps she is a little odd,
Eccentric ... I would guess,
For she has this shopping fetish,
With which she is possessed.
She loves to shop for bargains,
Anything On Sale, she'll try,
If it's Marked-Down, she loves it,
Slashed-In-Half ... she's got to buy!
She clips coupons from the paper
That read, "Buy One - Get One Free!"
She has no use for either item,
But buy, she must, you see.
Delighted with her bargains,
She'll give them all away,
Then will brag to all her neighbors
How much she saved that day.
Impulse buying is her downfall,
She can't pass potato bins,
Marked "Ten Pounds for a Dollar,"
Without two hands digging in.
Since the lady lives alone,
You all must understand,
One pound is quite enough for her,
But "Take Ten" is her command.
So nine pounds of sale potatoes
End up on nine apartment doors,
In nine bags, upon nine doorknobs,
One pound per door - no more.
No note - no name - no credit,
Although, it's always known
It's our bargain basement neighbor
That brought those goodies home.
Sometimes flowers go on sale,
And she will buy some blooms,
Then hang a couple on each doorknob,
To share some sweet perfume.
She buys doughnuts by the dozen,
Though all she wants is one,
So eleven go on doorknobs,
When eleven bags are hung.
Doughnuts, flowers, or potatoes,
Or whatever goes on sale,
Everybody gets some,
On his doorknob without fail.
Some folks poke fun at her,
And joke behind her back,
"A potato on one's doorknob,
What a silly thing," they laugh.
But what some neighbors do not know
Is this lady blesses many,
For behind those closed apartment doors
Are folks in need a-plenty.
Not so much for food, perhaps,
But for a sign that someone cares,
And a potato on a doorknob,
Means some love is being shared.
That's where this angel thing comes in,
For those doughnut or potato gifts,
Not only give a bite to eat,
But always, always give some lifts.
So I maintain this funny neighbor,
Who goes on shopping sprees,
More than likely is an angel,
With eccentricities.
But, I hope the Lord is very kind,
And keeps her out of fish stores,
For I'd really hate to have her hang
A dead fish on my door!
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright August 2004

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