I’m a Nobody, Sir
A tired, weary maid came to our door,
Hunting any maid-like chore.
“Do I know you,” I said to her.
And she replied, “I’m a nobody, sir.”
Her statement clearly startled me.
That she had problems was plain to see.
I asked for references for work she’d done,
But she could only give me one.
I told her I would check it out
And call her in two days–or there about.
In two days, I made that call
And found this maid indeed stood tall
Among all maids this family had had,
Although I was told she was a tad bit sad.
I hired the maid but with a vow
To life her spirits —some way, somehow.
No one should say, “I’m a nobody,sir.”
I vowed to find a way to help her.
The maid came to work for us twice a week,
A diligent worker, though she’d seldom speak.
But after just a month of this
I stumbled on a way to her happiness.
I caught her admiring our roses red,
In our backyard’s flowerbed.
When next our maid came to our house,
I’d sneaked around like a crafty mouse.
Three fine red rose bushes were in my plans,
All potted in their nursery cans.
I carefully wrote out planting directions–
Then drove our maid home for plant-site inspections.
And showed her the very best site,
And told her how to plant her roses right.
As the year wore on, more rose bushes I gave–
Some from cuttings that I had saved.
Soon our maid’s little yard became a delight to see–
An exquisite rose garden, though just a bit wee.
An excellent rosarian our maid became.
And that downcast spirit? Never the same!
She smiled as she chatted about her flowers,
And on weekends in her garden spent many hours.
Today, she’d never say, “I’m a nobody,sir.”
That feeling–once harbored–now just a blur.
C. Glennon Rowell (January 2006)