Patchworked

Orchid

In an elevator that belonged

To a building full of doctors' clinics,

My mother and I make way

For a man rushing in to join us.

He's pushing another man on a wheelchair

And they swiftly run over my foot

As they enter the tiny box.

Stifling a cry, I peer at the one stting.

His lower legs were missing

And he held in his thin arms

A clay pot from which a purple orchid

With the largest blossom grew.

He notices me looking and smiles widely.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he says proudly

And despite the pain in my toes

I grin back.

I was thankful I still had

My own feet to feel

And it was true.

The orchid was indeed beautiful.