“A fork?” the preacher said, condescension in his voice,
“Of all your earthly goods, a fork’s to be your choice?”
She had asked him for a visit, for she was going to die;
They had talked about her service, how she wanted none to cry.

She would be in her church dress, with a fork placed in her hand.
But why a fork? His curiosity was more than he could stand.
Her eyes no longer focused but she hadn’t lost her smile,
She made a place beside her and said, “Sit down a while.”

Then she began to tell of the years she’d lived alone,
Old friends no longer visited, very few would even phone.
“When you have no one to eat with, you hardly ever cook,
You curl up on the couch with a sandwich and a book.”

“You dream of childhood times, when Mom’s cooking was a treat;
She knew just how to cook all the things we liked to eat.
Afterwards we’d clear the table and wipe up every crumb,
But we knew to keep our forks, ’cause the best was yet to come.”

“If I had to eat liver, or spilt gravy on my skirt,
All that would be forgotten when Mom brought out dessert.
My life was not the greatest, as for good times, I’ve had some;
But I’m going to keep my fork, ’cause the best is yet to come.”

This is the kind of story that I love to turn into a poem. It is a real tearjerker but still has a touch of humor. The lady had been saving her fork for a long time and she was looking forward to her dessert. The moral of the story is quite evident. When things look grim and you wonder if it is worth it all, just hang on to that fork. There is always the promise of a rainbow after a storm.