The Blind Man And The Scarlet Rose

One day when I was walking,

Beside the sun drenched sea,

I saw a man of sixty,

Softly calling me.

He sat within a wheelchair,

With dark glasses on his nose,

And in his hands which trembled,

He held a scarlet rose.

I knew he couldn’t see me,

As saw his eyes were blind,

But the gaze that fell upon me,

Was bold but yet so kind.

He handed me the scarlet rose,

With tears in his eyes,

“l will tell you of this rose”, he said,

“Before this old man dies.

God has blessed me with this rose,

To remind me there is light,

For its scent so sweet and beautiful,

Drifts through lonely nights.

Its petals are the softness,

Our hearts are meant to be,

The stem that holds the flower,

Is the strength that sets us free.

I can feel it’s wholesome beauty,

If I take it in my hands,

As I wish for peace and unity,

For every colour man.

Never walk by sight alone,

But walk by faith instead,

Remember all your lifetime,

The words this man has said.

I’m old and crippled I admit,

But my spirit lives inside,

I will live in honour daily,

Until the day I die."

I held this old man’s hand so firm,

As tears blurred my sight,

For the love that burned inside my heart,

Told me he was right.

Copyright © 2009 Blondepoet