Wednesday, February 11, 2015

The Faded Rose

The Faded Rose

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read, 
beneath the long, 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 little boy approached me, all tired from play. 
He stood right before me with his head tilted down 
and said with excitement, "Hey! Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and a pitiful sight, 
With its petals all wilted from no rain and no light. 
Wanting him to leave 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 then he declared with overacted surprise; 
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. 
That's why I picked it; just for you."

The flower before me was already dead, 
no longer vibrant of it's colors of red. 
But I knew I must take it, or he'd never leave. 
So I reached for the flower thinking that's 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 how I'd been so unkind. 
It was then that I'd noticed the little boy was blind.

My voice quivered as I thanked him for what he had done. 
I told him he'd picked the very best one. 
"You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play, 
unaware of the impact he'd made on my day.

I held that old flower up to my nose 
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose. 
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see 
such a self-centered woman sitting under that tree.

How could he have sensed my self-indulged plight.
Perhaps God had blessed him with a truer sight. 
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see, 
the problem wasn't the world; the problem was me.

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