I don't love everybody,

Though the Good Book says, "Love all."

Oh, I guess I love mankind, per se,

But individually, I stall.

For instance, there's my neighbor,

Who seems vicious, mean, and hateful.

To try to love that woman,

Would indeed be quite a plateful.

She is the kind of person,

Who shoos kids from her front yard.

Because they get too noisy,

When they are playing hard.

I even saw her take the hose,

Turn the water on full blast.

Then point it at a sleeping cat,

Not expecting that cold bath.

Once I heard she called the police,

On trick-or-treaters Halloween.

They were just small kids in costume,

With no intention to be mean.

She plants no flowers in her yard,

Her place is drab and dreary.

I, for one, stay far away,

And I've heard other folks are leery.

One Sunday, when I went to church,

The preacher asked for prayers.

By name, he listed several folks,

Who had specific needs or cares.

When he announced my neighbor's name,

It took me by surprise.

The kinds of needs that she might have,

No way, could I surmise.

Then my pastor caught me,

As I was going out the door.

Said, "If you'll go and call on her,

The Lord will bless you evermore."

Well, I'm not averse to blessings,

So, I told my pastor yes.

But I don't know why I did that,

There's easier ways of getting blessed.

However, the next day or so,

I went next door to make my call.

The place was neat and tasteful,

But not too homey, overall.

"Come in," she said suspiciously,

And in her house I went.

While in my heart, I asked myself,

"Dear Lord, Why was I sent?"

One wall was wholly covered,

With children's photographs.

"Who are they?" I queried,

Almost sorry, that I asked.

"That one is my daughter,"

She pointed with some pride,

"Oh," I said, "She's lovely,

But... I've not seen her outside."

"No, you won't," she scowled,

Bitterness now upon her face.

She passed away some time ago,

Before we moved into this place."

"Oh, dear, I am so sorry,"

She said, "It was on a Halloween.

She was hit by a drunk driver,

Who crashed his car and fled the scene."

"What a tragedy," I shook my head,

I began to understand.

So I tried to change the subject,

By asking, "Who is that young man?"

Another picture on her wall,

Of a handsome, teenage boy.

I told myself it had to be,

Her son - her pride and joy.

"Yes, that's my son," she answered,

Of course, now he is full-grown.

He does not live here anymore,

He lives away from home.

Gradually her tale came out,

Almost too sad to tell.

Her son now spends his hours,

Locked in a prison cell.

That Halloween night, her little girl,

Had chased a cat across the yard.

A car with a drunken driver,

Had hit the child very hard.

The son, it seems, was driving,

He did not see his sis.

And in one horrific moment,

Their whole world went amiss.

Then I hugged my neighbor's shoulders,

Together we shed tears.

I understood quite fully then,

Her behavior these past years.

So now I'm not so quick to judge.

Things are not always as they seem.

For someone drowned in sorrow,

May appear as very mean.

One cannot judge a book,

By what is shown on its cover.

Nor from the outer aspects,

Is it fair to judge another.

Ginny Ellis Used with permission

Please click on the link below to visit Virginia's website and read some more of her wonderful poems.