The Most Beautiful Flower

               

              The beach was deserted as I sat down to read
              'neath the long straggly limbs of an old willow tree.
              Disillusioned by life...with reason to frown,
              The world was intent on dragging me down.

              It that weren't enough to ruin my day,
              a young girl approached, all rumpled from play.
              She stood right before me, her head tilted down.
              And said with excitement, "Look what I found!"

              In her hand was a flower .... what a pitiful sight:
              Petals all worn - lack of rain and of light.

              Hoping she'd take her find and go play,
              I faked a weak smile, then shifted away.
              Instead of retreating she sat nearer my side,
              placed the flower to her nose
              and declared wih surprise,
              "It sure smells pretty...and it's beautiful too.
              That's why I picked it. Here it's for you!"

              The object before me was dying or dead.
              It's color was faded, now pink, but once red.
              Yet I knew I must take it or she might never leave.
              So I reached for the flower.... and she said,
              "Just what I need."

              But rather than placing her prize in my hand,
              she held it midair without reason or plan.
              It was then that I noticed for the very first time,
              this exuberant child 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, 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 woman 'neath 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, now I could see
              the problem was not with the world, but with me.
              And for all the times I, myself, had been blind,
              I vowed to appreciate each moment that's mine.

              Then I held that dead flower near to my nose
              sensing the fragrance of one beautiful rose.
              I smiled as I watched the young girl, weed in hand,
              about to enlighten a grumpy old man.

               

                E-mail Eve

               

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