Honor Without A Name Poem by Marjorie Peters McIntosh

Sometimes your face is not familiar to those you see each day,
As the aged begin to weaken before they pass away.
You washed and dressed and fed them, and helped them on the way,
As they sometimes laughed or cried and thanked you in their way.
As time passed by them and they became so frail,
You couldn't walk with them so you sat beside their bed.
Their family loved them dearly but they had to bring them here.
It was hard; I know, the pain they had to bear
As the end was nearing and eyes were tired and red;
You left an everlasting memory as you sat beside their bed.