Days, at the door..

Old age invites all at home
Remembering how once they too beautifully bloomed
Sharing treasures of experiences
Laughter found in a corner somewhere hidden
A little time here and another spent there
How well gone how much did they fair
Beneath all they have a soft heart
They want to know how much they too are taken to heart
Just reach out to them, make yourself a start
Wait and in no time they open their hearts
You're their best friend of that moment,
Making their faces shining, their spirits up
As you hear forgotten stories, not much cooked up
Their frail hands weaving memories,
With threads left beyond some pavement up
They show you the real green does exist
A walk and some more will bring former back
Its worth sitting besides them hearing them all day
You're amazed how much more is left for them to say
Keep listening, keep listening, keep listening to them
You think you're caring ?
Oh no, please shed this make up
Treasure their words for they are true
Fortunate are those who're allowed come close to
Days are not farther than presumption's belief
A day stands at the door when a lending ear you too would need
To bring back lost stories, those laughter sans care,
Life is not tears, for there's much more to share..