The Gentleman On A Park Bench Poem by Richard Lackman

I spied him on a park bench, my how happy he did seem
As contented as a sleeping man within a pleasant dream
So full of equanimity, so tranquil and refined
Obviously no distress disturbed his state of mind

His suit was made of finest wool; his shirt was starched and clean
His countenance reflected by shoes polished to a sheen
Who was this lordly gentleman who graced our neighborhood?
I did not seem to recognize him though I thought I should

For clearly he was someone I could envy and admire
Someone whose lavish lifestyle I could strive for and desire
If only I could take his place as God I wished I might
How high would then my spirits soar, oh what a pure delight.

Just then his nurses came toward him helping him to stand
As carefully they crossed the cobbles walking hand in hand
Only then I realized this gentleman was blind
Living in a land of darkness, physically confined

Yet how obtuse was my existence though I had my sight
I could not recognize my fortune, only saw my plight
How ironic that a blind man finally helped me see
The blessings and good fortune that have daily come to me.