The hug is special to the lonely man locked away in his room.
The white roses are special to the fiancée in a white veil.
The tattered and yellowed poem is special to the lover who received it.
The cake lit with candles is special to the person celebrating his birthday
but is not special by any means to the birthday.
The song is special to the song bird perched in a cage hung by a window
as it is special to the young girl who received it as a gift.
I want to be special to the children of the world
who laugh while playing in the fields,
special as the one who laughs back.
I want to be special in the way a dimpled smile
is special to the lonely stranger.
I want to be special in the way a sole
is special to the shoe
not because it is special
but because it does its task
without seeking praise.
I'm trying to get some practice in for the Ironic Catholic's Second Annual Poetry Contest. Here is a little practice. It might be a little too serious for a humor blog. But who is counting?...