The old lady turned to me
and asked "How many friends have
you?"
Why 10 or 20 friends have I, And named off
She rose quite slow with effort
And sadly shook her head "A lucky child you are To have so many friends,"
she said,
But think of what you're saying
There is so much you do not know
A friend is just not someone
A friend's a
tender shoulder
On which to
softly cry
As well to pour
your troubles
down
A friend is a hand to pull you up From darkness
and despair... When all your other "so called"
friends
A true friend is an ally
Who can't be moved or
bought
A voice to keep your name alive
But most of all a friend is a heart
A strong and sturdy wall For from the hearts of friends There comes the
So think of what I've spoken
For every word is true
And answer once again my child
How many friends have
And then she stood and faced
me
Awaiting my reply
