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�
