They’ve held my hand and guided my way
And lead me down the pathways of life.
And what a case of “patience” in truth
As they dealt with my questions in rife.
And now what can I effect for them
In the time of their ripened old age?
The wise who have been pillars in life—
What might be done to comfort such sage?
To pay a fond, warm visit in kind.
A card. A call. A letter. A smile.
Take time to hold a wrinkled lil hand,
Or give a small gift every short while.
All the black hairs are become quite grey
Such folks are a grand treasure on loan.
And in all of our prayers for them—
May God keep them for ever His own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem