The Park Bench

I got this poem from a professor of mine - sometimes I need to read little inspirational things like this - just to give me a boost, and to help me be a better person. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

The Park Bench

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read

Under 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 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 said, "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 person 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 all of those times, I myself had been blind

I vowed to 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

I smiled at the young boy with another weed in his hand

About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man