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The Most Beautiful Flower
This is such a beautiful story. I hope you enjoy it like I did when I first read it.
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 girl out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
She stood right before me with her head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"
In her hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting her to take her dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating she sat next to my side
And placed the flower to her 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 colours: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or she might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."
But instead of her placing the flower in my hand,
She held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting girl could not see: she was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked her for picking the very best one.
You're welcome," she smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact she'd had on my day.
I sat there and wondered how she managed to see
A self-pitying man beneath an old willow tree.
How did she know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from her heart, she'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 girl,
Another weed in her hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.
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