Sitting on a step stool no one wanted,
he cried with a book open in his hand;
a large one, fit for a coffee table.
In between all the impressionistic illustrations
of the painter, Monet,
there was a leaf.
It wasn’t paper like the others.
Nope. Just a leaf. From a tree.
His tears fell onto a smile,
that grew from a memory,
seeded by the little gift,
left for him by someone long gone.
The leaf was dry and real.
It stood out like a sore thumb
amidst Monet’s wonderful impressions.
With a small puff and a wider smile,
the boy closed the book,
and placed it in the pile to donate.
He said, “you’re right, mom.
It’s only stuff.”
And just like that, his life floated on,
like a leaf pressed in a book,
by someone with a message
much larger than him.
Originally published at https://www.daytondoesstuff.com on June 19, 2019.