What recompense could ever pay
For little, unsung things each day?
The neighbor with the casserole,
To ease the lonliness of soul.
The driver in a traffic line
Who lets you in with friendly sign.
A stranger with the willing feet,
Who runs to help you on the street.
The quick word said to right a wrong,
A hug that tells where you belong.
The hand on yours in loving chain,
To share the burden of new pain.
The unsung things - a fault ignored,
A past transgression unexplored.
How many little unsungs mount,
To make life's big things -
Who could count?
~Donna Dickey Guyer~
Contents & Graphics Copyright © Homespun Blessings/2001
and the graphic artist listed. Our work is not Public Domain,
and should NOT be taken from this site. Thank you.