Please listen to them.

She sat on her porch
In her old rocking chair.
She sat all alone
No one really cared.
Her house sits empty,
Her children all grown,
Her husband is gone.

Suddenly a small girl
Appeared before her
Holding a small bunch of flowers.
"These are for you.
I picked them today,"
She said with a smile,
Her long blonde hair
Shining gold in the sun,
"May I sit with you?"

The old woman looked down
At this sweet little girl
Who stood before her.
"What do you want?"
She asked crabbily,
"Why would anyone want to see me?"

"I want to see you!"
The little girl cried,
"My mom says you're lonely,
And I thought that you
Might want company."

"So your mom told you to come?"
The old woman inquired,
"You don't want to be here,
So go away now."

"No! This was my idea!
Please let me come sit.
You see, I know you're lonely,
And I'm lonely, too.
I have no sisters,
Or even brothers,
And there's no nice girls at my school.
I thought maybe since
We're both lonely people
We could be friends. Do you think we could?"

The little girl looked up
At the old woman rocking,
Her eyes filled with longing.
The woman peered down
And inspected the girl.
The girl never wavered,
And looked in her eyes
Until the old woman finally spoke,
"All right, you may come sit beside me.
But don't think that we
Could ever be friends.
I'm old, you know,
And you are quite young.
There's too many differences
Between us, you see."

The little girl smiled,
Her face filled with joy.
"Do you know any stories?
I'd like to hear one.
My dad says that people
Who are older like you
Know plenty of stories
Of life long ago."
The girl said as she went
To sit on a stool.

"Yes, I know some stories
Of life long ago.
I'll be happy to tell you.
No one else cares to hear.
They're all too busy
To stop and hear me.
But if you have the time,
I'll be glad to tell you."

So the afternoon passed
For the woman and girl,
The elder spinning stories,
The girl sat entranced
By all of the stories,
Until the girl's mother
Came to fetch her for supper.

"I'll come see you tomorrow, then,"
The girl said as she stood,
"I can't hardly wait
Till tomorrow afternoon.
I loved all your stories,
And I want to hear more."

"Of course, my dear girl,
You can come tomorrow.
I have plenty more stories.
Please come by again."
The old woman finally smiled
As the girl walked home through the dusk.

And so the girl visited
The woman every day
Until, at long last,
The old woman died,
And the little girl grew up
And had a big family.
But even then she remembered the woman
She had listened to, long, long ago,
And she wrote down the stories
That the old woman told
So that everyone would always remember
The stories of long, long ago.

And now, dear reader,
Please hear my words,
And remember them after you've read
My poor poem,
Please remember the old folk,
They have stories to tell,
And the wisdom of life is with them.
They have so much to give,
But many don't want
To stop and hear their words.
So listen to them,
Ask questions of them,
For they will not always be here.
The things that they've seen
And the things that they've lived through,
Will never happen again,
So listen to their tales
While they are still here
Before they are no more.