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