The Dandelion In The Sidewalk

Flows With The Breeze Of The Busy Urban Life

Folks Walk By It Everyday In The Hundreds

Yet Still Its Stands Desolate

 But This Is The Only Life It Knows

So Though The Passerby May Pay It No Attention,

Although It’s Short And Slopes Its Back

And No Matter If The Cement It Grows In Cracks

 Nevertheless, It Grows.

Down In The Unlit Streams Of The Drains

A Reedy Plant Lives In A Crevice

Inside The Concrete Tunnel Of Which It Lives

The Damp Cold Still Air Doesn’t Turn The Tide, Boring The Plant As It Pushes It Aside.

 Through The Unwholesome Rushing Current, It Strains

To Carry On To See The Next Day, As Above Its Roof It Hears

The Steps And Words Of Many Folks Who Sound Oh So Near

And Each Sound From Above Brings It Cheer

 So With A Renewed Sense Of Hope, Ever Growing It Remains