|The Most Beautiful Flower
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
for the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
a young boy approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down,
and with great excitement said, "Look what I found!"
In his hand was a flower - what a pitiful sight,
with its petals all worn from no rain or sunlight.
Wishing he would go away with his dead flower and play,
I faked a small smile, and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating, he sat next to my side,
with the flower to his nose and declaring with pride,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too!
That's why I picked it. Here, it's for you!"
The flower before me was dying or dead,
not vibrant of colors, orange, pink or red.
But I knew I must take it or he might never leave.
So I reached for it and said, "It's just what I need."
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
he held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time,
that this little boy could not see. He was blind!
I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun,
as I thanked him for picking the very best one.
"You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play,
unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see,
a self-pitying old woman 'neath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see,
the problem was not with the world - it was with me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see beauty every second that's mine.
Then I held that wilted flower up to my nose,
and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose.
Then I smiled as I saw him - another "flower" in hand,
as he was about to change the life of a little old man.