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,
dragging me down.
A
nd if that weren't enough
to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath
approached me, all tired from play. head tilted down
And said with great excitement,
"Look what I found!" In his hand was a flower,
and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not
enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower
and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and
then shifted away.But instead of retreating he
sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
And declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty
and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it;
here, it's for you." The weed before me
was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors:
orange, yellow or red.But I knew I must take it,
or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower,
and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing
the flower in my hand,
He held it midair
without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed
for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see:
he was blind.I heard my voice quiver;
tears shone in 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 woman
beneath 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;
the problem was me.And for all of those times
I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life, And
appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted
flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance
of a beautiful rose And smiled as I watched that young boy,
another weed in his hand,
About to change the life
of an unsuspecting old man.~ Author Unknown ~
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