He Is Created In The Image Of God.

He Is Created In The Image Of God

Slowly he shuffles across the floor
Taking his time he opens the door
He looks at the man standing outside
"Who are you?" he silently cries.

Closing the door in the poor man's face
He creeps to his chair at a turtle's pace
Takes a seat still trembling inside
Looks around for a place to hide.

Then as quick as the flash in his eye
He forgets the man standing outside
He sits down in his favorite seat
Rocks in his chair, soon he's asleep

Starts for the bath, pees on the floor
Stoops on his cane trying to clean the mess
He can't reach it, his muscles are too sore
Tomorrow he will do the same, more or less

Have patience, for this man is not to blame.
He is suffering deterioration of his brain
Once he was young and healthy like us
So treat him with respect, don't make a fuss

The mess can be cleaned, he'll soon be asleep
Let him walk himself, even though he creeps
When, in your face he closes the door
Realize he doesn't recognize you anymore

Although now he seems slow and a little odd
He is still created in the image of God.
Remember, someday it might be you or me
So treat him with love and dignity

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