There he stood staring at the sky,
quite the odd site to Roger as he went tottling by.
“Sir, may I ask you what you see?”
His words full of curious childhood glee.
“I see nothing, dear sir, which is why I stare at the sun.
I wish nothing more than to put it out so its damage may be undone.”
Roger paused and thought and scratched his head,
wondering if this stranger truly wished for the sun to be dead.
“But why may I ask, where was this hatred born?”
Roger scolded the stranger with his own anger and scorn.
“It was long ago” said the stranger with fear in his words,
“For I was much smaller, laying in the grass with the flowers and gourds.”
He paused a short moment before returning to speak,
“That’s when I saw it, in a glance, an unfortunate peek.”
So the stranger told Roger of a tale of true horror;
one of self pity, gruesome disfigurement, and cluttered with sorrow.
For the stranger one day, a very long time ago,
saw his self in this shadow; lying on the ground below.
“I am an ugly puppet!” the stranger screamed from tormented soul;
“Just look at my shadow, it is a terror to behold.”
Roger looked and examined the shape on the ground,
but neither disgust nor abomination was what Roger had found.
He smiled in delight and said to his friend
“Just wait her a while, your sad tale will soon end.”
The stranger watched carefully, from the corner of his eye,
as Roger ran home and boy did he fly.
“I’m back; I’m here, my dear friend!” Roger shouted with full force.
“You’re life will soon take you on a new bright and wondrous course.”
He reached his arm out to the stranger, a shining gift in his hand;
“One look in this mirror, my friend, and you will be a new man.”
The stranger refused, unable to shake the staggering doubt;
Roger asked “Are you afraid of your reflection, the truth you will find out?”
So he thought and thought on a way to convince his friend,
for it was time for this self pity to come to an end.
“I’ve got it!” yelped Roger, “We’ll both look when I count three.”
With a nod they began “One….two….You’re not an ugly puppet, but a glorious tree!”
The stranger blinked twice more after that first impossible gaze,
his reflection the same no matter the times or the ways.
The stranger gushed “I can’t believe it; I will never forget your name!
You have saved my life; it will never be the same.”
Little did the he know that his transformation was far from done,
the gifts that Roger had for him had only just begun.
For Roger was not only a friend, but expert carpenter you see;
and he molded the dear stranger into a puppet, and the most beautiful puppet was he.
When you see yourself in a light cast by another, the beauty inside of you will be lost.