The tale of a rose being choked to death by the city that surrounds it. |
I was wandering the city, and about to cross the street, When a glimpse of red did catch my eye, near the ground around my feet. I, at first, did pay no heed, 'Just litter I suppose.' But imagine my surprise to find a harmless, little rose. Down upon the kerbside footpath, in a crack between the stone, Was the pure, untainted flower, by itself and all alone; The leaves where slightly wilted and the red, begun to fade, As the poor defenseless flower, stood, unnoticed in the shade. I was amazed that it had grown, from seed to budding roots, Even with so little sunlight, and the stomp of city boots, But, alas, I saw the plant, was barely staying strong, If it didn’t get some sunlight soon, It wouldn’t be here long. Suddenly, I heard a noise of beeping, strong and loud, And I found myself being swept away by a bustling city crowd, As I continued my way home, I looked back across the lane, And thought 'Do not worry little rose, I will return again.' All that night and then next morning flew by like a daze, Until I could return unto the rose’s hidden place, But as my eyes a-focused and the kerbside footpath neared, The sight that I was given nearly broke me into tears. It was then I found disaster, even I could not prevent Above the path a sign which stated ‘Caution: Wet Cement’ The Rose and all the broken path and tile was replaced, Instead there was a large grey slab, a cold and even face, Through its long and daring struggle, the rose had now been beat, Just so that three steps in a journey didn’t worry city feet, In this grey it was a vibrance that did embrace my soul to bleed, But to a fastly moving city; Forgotten Rose is just a weed |