Stranger at My Door

 

A stranger stood
at my door, asking
for a place to rest,
a meal, and time to talk.
How could I refuse?
Such simple things
were mine to give.
He said this night
would be his last.
“I will be gone
before you wake.”
I did not understand
then or now,
but in the morning
no trace of him
could be found.
I smiled and made
breakfast for three.
One for the old man
who lives alone
and one for me,
and one for a stranger
at my door.