The old man turned to me and asked,
"How many friends have you?"
Why 10 or 20 friends have I,
And named off just a few.

He rose quite slow with effort
And sadly shook his head.
"A lucky child you are
To have so many friends," he said.

But think of what you're saying,
There is so much you do not know -
A friend is not just someone
To whom you say "Hello."

A friend's a tender shoulder
On which to softly cry -
A well to pour your troubles down
And raise your spirits high.

A friend is a hand to pull you up
From darkness and despair...
When all your other "so called " friends
Have helped to put you there.

A true friend is an ally
Who can't be moved or bought -
A voice to keep your name alive
When others have forgot.

But most of all a friend's a heart -
A strong and sturdy wall,
For from the heart of friends
There comes the greatest love of all!!!

So think of what I've spoken
For every word is true
And answer once again my child,
"How many friends have you??"

And then he stood and faced me,
Awaiting my reply.
Softly I answered,
"If lucky..... 'one' have I."

"YOU!!!"