The Most Beautiful Flower
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
weed before me was dying or dead.
But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like the sun
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
By Cheryl L. Costello-Forshey
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.
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"
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.
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."
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."
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The most beautiful flower by Cheryl Costello-Forshey
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