His son, eight years old, <br />held out his perfect hand <br />in which lay five perfect stones <br />that he had gathered from the river bank. <br /> <br />This one (a purple one) is an amethyst, <br />he said. <br />This one (a white one) is a diamond, <br />he said. <br />This one (a red one) is a ruby, <br />he said. <br />This one (a green one) is an emerald, <br />he said. <br />This one (a blue one) is a sapphire, <br />he said. <br /> <br />Ah, what beautiful stones, <br />the father exclaimed, but they are <br />not gems, not jewels. <br /> <br />But, the boy said, <br />they are. Jewels are beautiful. <br />Jewels are hard to find. <br />Jewels glitter and come <br />in glorious colors. <br /> <br />Ah, but jewels are more beautiful <br />than these, more hard to find, <br />more glittery, and the colors <br />are more dramatic. <br /> <br />But these stones are beautiful to me, <br />said the little boy. <br />Then they are treasures <br />beyond all price, <br />answered the father.<br /><br />Sonny Rainshine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/parable-of-five-stones/
