The Blind Boy
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   The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read under an old willow trees. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was intent on dragging me down.
   Then a young boy out of breath approached me, all tired form 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, its petals all withered. I faked a smile and then shifted away.
   But instead of retreating he sat next to me and placed the flower to his nose and declared, “It sure smells sweet and it’s beautiful too. That’s why I picked it; here it’s for you.”
   The wildflower before me was dying or dead without vibrant colors like 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 in the midair. It was then that I noticed for the very first time that boy was blind.
   I heard my voice quiver, tears shining like the 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’d had on my day.
   I sat there and wondered how he managed to see a self-pity woman under 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 cherish every second that’s mine.
   And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose, breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose and smiled.

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The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath an old willow tree£®Not __21____with life, I was down£®A young boy out of breath  __22___me, all tired from play£®He stood right before me with his head tilted£¨ÇãбµÄ£©down, and__23__with great excitement, “Look what I found!”
In his hand was a flower, and what a  __24__ sight, its petals£¨»¨°ê£©were  all worn£­not enough rain, or too little light£®__25__ him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I __26__ a small smile and then shifted away£®But instead of __27_ he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose and declared with __28_, “It sure smells pretty and it ’s beautiful, too£®That’s why I  _29__ it; here, it’s for you£®”
The flower before me was dying or dead£®But I knew I __30__ take it, or he might never leave£®So I reached for the flower, and__31__, “Just what I need£®” But instead of placing the flower in my hand, he__32__it mid£­air without reason£®It was then that I __33__ for the very first time the boy was  _34__£®
 I heard my voice shake, tears shone like the sun __35__ I thanked him for picking the very best one£®He smiled, and then ran off to play,__36__ of the effect he’d had on my day£®
 I sat there and _37_ how he managed to see a self-pitying woman beneath an  old willow tree£®How did he know of my self-indulged£¨·Å×ݵģ©_38_? Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true__39_£®
_40__ 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 beauty, and appreciate every second that's mine£®
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