Black Hairs Turned Grey

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.