If
you are caught in someone else's frames
Break
out here!
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 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!"
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.
No vibrant 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 mid-air 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.
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: Cheryl L. Costello-Forshey
