burden shared

A March poem by my young grandmother, wise far beyond her years:

John and I went walking
All down the dusty road;
We had a crate of apples,
But we two shared the load.

We laughed and talked together,
The load was feather light,
Our bare toes kicked the pebbles,
Our eyes with love were bright.

There came that way a stranger
With jewels in his hand.
He smiled at me so kindly--
John would not understand.

He spoke; I stopped to listen,
And John went on alone.
The stranger's words were honey,
And how those jewels shone!

I turned then with the stranger,
But looked once back at John.
Tired and bent and weary,
He slowly plodded on.

I ran back to him sobbing,
And, as I had begun,
I took my share of the burden,
Too heavy far for one.