There came a
frantic knock
at the doctor's office door,
A knock, more urgent than
he had ever heard before.
"Come in, Come
in,"
the impatient doctor said,
"Come in, Come in,
before you wake the dead."
In walked a
frightened little girl,
a child no more than nine,
It was plain for all to see,
she had troubles on her mind.
"Oh doctor,
I beg you,
please come with me,
My mother is surely dying,
she's as sick as she can be."
"I don't make
house calls,
bring your mother here,"
"But she's too sick,
so you must come or she will die I fear."
The doctor,
touched by her devotion,
decided he would go,
She said he would be blessed,
more than he could know.
She led him
to her house
where her mother lay in bed,
Her mother was so very sick
she couldn't raise her head.
But her eyes
cried out for help
and help her the doctor did,
She would have died that very night
had it not been for her kid.
The doctor got
her fever down
and she lived through the night,
And morning brought the doctor signs,
that she would be all right.
The doctor said
he had to leave
but would return again by two,
And later he came back to check,
just like he said he'd do.
The mother praised
the doctor
for all the things he'd done,
He told her she would have died,
were it not for her little one.
"How proud you
must be
of your wonderful little girl,
It was her pleading that made me come,
she is really quite a pearl!"
"But doctor,
my daughter died
over three years ago,
Is the picture on the wall
of the little girl you know?"
The doctor's
legs went limp
for the picture on the wall,
Was the same little girl
for whom he'd made this call.
The doctor stood
motionless,
for quite a
little while,
And then his solemn face,
was broken by his smile.
He was thinking
of that frantic knock
heard at his office door,
And of the beautiful little angel
that had walked across his floor.
