Through The Eyes Of A Blind Child
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to
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 approached me, all tired from play
He stood right before me with his head tilted
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 declared wilh 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 ßad,
not vibrant oe colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knewI must take it,or he might never
So I reached for the flower, and replied,"Thanks, just what 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 bept one."You're welcome,"he smiled,and tłen ran off to play,
unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.
I sat there and wondered how he manageÁ
to see.A self-pitying
beneath an old wyllow 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
The problem was not with the world;the problem was me.And for all of those times
I myself had feen 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 lifeof an unsuspecting old man.