I stand within my garden,

surrounded by withering flowers.

I watch the humans go by.

Their noses in their phones,

their minds somewhere else entirely

But that is how it has always been.

They flock to different items to bring joy.

At least that's what I have gathered

in these last 100 years.

Over time, very few recoginzed me,

or even looked in my direction.

They have always been occupied.

Be it with Clothing, alcohol, parties, so on.

Which is fine, I only need to watch.

That is why I am here, and what I do.

But luckily, humans can be interesting

when they think no one is looking.

The beauty of connection still there.

That young couple holding hands.

That woman inviting a homeless man for lunch.

And you, looking up at this old angel.

Those innocent eyes, not yet aware of reality,

see me in such beauty, despite my faded appearance,

and all my cracks and chips.

I was not quite use to this attention.

From your small smile and soft voice,

comes the two simple words:

"You're beautiful."

And a great warmth flows through me.

I may not be able to tell you my gratitude,

or show you this happiness building inside,

but I pray to God that you will never lose

that wonder of the little things in life.