by Sandra Rippetoe © 2020
for all the nearsighted people in the world
and the vision professionals who help them see
There was a young girl who could not see well.
A few inches from her face was all she could tell.
“Who are you? What is that? Now where do I step?”
Seeing close-up things only . . . she asked for some help.
“You’re nearsighted,” the doc said. “You need to wear glasses.
You’ll see things far away – like the board in your classes.”
When she got her glasses and first put them on,
the world was transformed – – an amazing new dawn!
Some kids made fun of her lenses so thick.
But, to her, wearing glasses was easy to pick!
She looked up and down – spinning to gaze ‘round.
She had so much fun seeing rooms, yards, and town.
She loved her dear glasses and promised herself – –
“When I sleep each night, they’ll be placed on this shelf.”
And so it was. But . . . one morn she awoke . . .
her glasses were gone! She screamed to her folks,
“Help me, please, help me! Now I can’t see!
I must have those glasses! My world ceases to be!
I won’t get to roam, to come or to go.
I don’t know where I am without far, high, or low.
My world is so small, just inches from my face.
Well, yes, I can read, but I can’t see ONE PLACE!”
Everyone searched. They looked all around
for days, months, and years. No glasses were found.
Thank goodness for words, that’s all she could see.
Words on a page were one way to be free.
She took out a pen and wrote, wrote, wrote . . .
Stories and rhymes, each, a heartfelt note.
With the passage of time, her poetry stopped.
She couldn’t see nature – inspiration dropped.
Memories of scenes were blurred like her vision.
She went back to the doctor – to announce her decision,
“Please help me see again. I miss my world!
Life’s details are gone. Does wind still make leaves twirl?”
He made her new glasses – the world came into view.
Her life was transformed! All things, again, new!
She locks up her glasses at night while she sleeps – –
the only possession she cares for and keeps.
So happy is she to watch squirrels, bugs, and birds.
Seeing clear pictures produces clear words.
She gets up each morning — a story to write.
Forever, she’s grateful because of her sight.