A well-worn path, walked by generations past
Guided by those who chose charity
Ones who spread wisdom, familiarity
For those downcast
She roams the road with a lantern on a crook
A piercing light, warm and inviting
The lighthouse’s child, with its far-away guiding
For those many times lost, its akin to a hook
A gaunt face appears off the side of the trail
“I will teach you; I will show you your way,”
She said, so did for many a day
Their appearance no longer worn and frail
Soon they were ready to walk the path with knowledge now known
“I thank you for your time and teachings, and I hope I did not bereave”
“You did not,” She smiled, then watched them leave
For this is a road you must finish alone
She continues to walk the path, with nothing to mourn
Showing the way to those long lost—those fallen to fright
A guardian, a guide, a beacon of light
An illuminator, for those newborn