This was the most beautiful flower

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 down  , not enough rain or too little light.

Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,

I faked a 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 smells pretty and its beautiful too, thats why i picked it, here its for you.

The weed before me was dying or dead,

not vibrant of colours , 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 midair without reason or pain.

It was then that i noticed for the first time,

that the weed toting boy could not see,

he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver, tears shone like sun,

as i thanked him for picking the very best one.

You are welcome he smiled and then ran off to play,

Unaware of the impact he 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 about my self indulged plight?

Perhaps from his heart he had 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 with me.

And for all of these times, i myself had been blind

I vowed to see the beauty in life and appreciate every second thats mine

And that i held that wilted flower upto my nose

and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose.

And i smiled as i watched that young boy,

another weed in his hand

about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.........

                     
                                    “The speaking tree”

                                      The times of India