ohohoh, I love it! thanks
Syl

Sugar Syl says,
Go on & touch someone with a little sugar
  ----- Original Message ----- 
  From: steve doyle 
  To: [email protected] 
  Sent: Tuesday, January 22, 2008 7:38 AM
  Subject: [RecipesAndMore] THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FLOWER


  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 -

  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.


   Good friends are hard to find, harder to leave, and impossible to forget.

  


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