The Watcher Poem by sally ray

The Watcher watches me each day
Since I've grown old and gray.
If I should start to wander or stray,
The Watcher makes safe the way.
No longer do my eyes see things true,
The way they used to do.
Only images and silhouettes
The Watcher guides my steps.
I speak of things you do not know
You think this poets mad.
The Watcher knows my problems,
He finds this very sad.
As time goes on the Watcher waits
For the time to call me home.
I'll never be left afraid or alone
The Watcher watches His Own.
The Watcher has a name you know
Most highest of them all.
And every knee should bow
To Him that's living here below.