The Most Beautiful Flower (By: Cheryl L. Costello-Forshey)


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.

Not vibrant of 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.

    You're welcome," he smiled,

    and then 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

    of 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 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.


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