Tuesday, 20 January 2015

The Forgotten Rose

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 sight was such to startle me, I stopped, and stared, and froze.
At such a perfect, natural, beauty; and I’m the only one who knows.

Somehow the young, determined plant had flourished from its seed
Even with so little sunlight and the business suit stampede.
But, alas, it was I saw the plant was barely staying strong,
If it didn’t get some sunlight soon It wouldn’t be here long.

The leaves where slightly wilted and the red, begun to fade,
As the poor defenseless flower stood unnoticed in the shade.
Before I knew, I'd heard a noise, a beeping, strong and loud,
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 in a daze,
Until I could return unto the rose’s hidden place.

But as my eyes a-focussed 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 concrete was replaced,
Instead there was a large grey slab, a cold and even face.
Through its long and daring struggle, the little rose had now been beat,
Just so that three steps in a journey didn’t worry city feet,

It was just a simple flower, only petal, leaf and thorn,
And yet now that my rose is lost, I dare myself to mourn.
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.

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