The Most Beautiful Flower

The Most Beautiful Flower

                                                                           Author

Cherly L.Costello-Forshey

The 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,

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 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 smile and 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.

Not vibrant of colours: 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 placing the flower in my hand,

He held it mid-air without reason or plan.

It was then that I noticed for the first time

That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shown in the sun

As I thanked him for picking the very best one.

"You're welcome," he smiled,and than ran off to play,

Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see

A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.

How did he know my self-indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart,he'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 those times I my self 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 fragrance of a beautiful rose,

And smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in hand,

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.