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[SG] The Weed

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
'Neath 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, his head tilted down
And said with excitement, "Just look what I found!"

His hand held a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
Its petals were worn - too little rain, too little light.
Hoping he'd take his dead flower and go play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating, he sat by my side.
He smelled the old flower and said with great pride,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The ugly old flower was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of color, orange, yellow or red.
I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and said, "Just what I need."

Instead of his placing the weed 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 like the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
"You're welcome," he smiled, then ran off to play,
Not knowing the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he'd managed to see
A self-pitying woman 'neath 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 others; the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see beauty in each second that's mine.

I lifted that old flower up close to my nose,
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose.
I smiled as that young boy, another weed in his hand
Was about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.


[BARBARA JEAN GREEN]
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