While on my walk I spied a flower
With huge petals, ruffled, yet tender:
A dazzling yellow-gold hibiscus,
Glowing with majestic splendor.

I couldn't help but stop and stare
At its striking beauty and gentle grace.
Not to acknowledge such elegance
Would definitely be a disgrace.

As I gazed upon the bloom,
I heard a quiet voice that said,
"They say it isn't nice to stare,
But go ahead…go ahead.

"Most people walk right by.
They see the flowers on the plant,
But their true ability
To grasp what they see is scant.

"Can you see me for who I am--
My individuality?
Or do all blooms appear as an
Anonymous totality?

"Yes, it's true that all of the flowers
Create a lovely impression together.
Think of gardens teeming with roses,
Fields of daisies, or hills of heather.

"But can you see my unique nature--
The deep essence of my being?
Am I more than merely one
Of many? Tell me what you're seeing."

Speechless, as though in a trance,
I stared awhile, then walked away,
Pondering every meaningful word
The beautiful flower had to say.

-by Bob B (9-1-17)