"I want to be just like you,"
I say to the decrepid old man.
"Just like you someday."
His laugh is raspy and thin
"My boy," he manages between his coughs,
"What is there left to desire?"
My giggle is the sound of songbirds
and churchbells ringing.
"Your eyes are bright,
they speak of hope and love.
Your mind is sharp,
full of lessons and wisdom.
Your mouth is tilted,
always curved into a slight smile.
Your wrinkles are deep,
laugh lines from years of use."
"But, my boy," he responds
in a gentle tone,
"My body is weak,
my hair is grey,
my brain forgetful,
and my money is none."
"And yet," I press,
"your gaze is soft,
your regrets are few,
your patience endless,
and your forgiveness infinite."
"And because of that," I conclude, "I want to be just like you."
As cheesy as it sounds, always look for the beauty within.
