Garden in the City- A Poem
Up high amongst the balconies of glass and steel,
brilliant pedals bask in the warm sun you feel;
the other surfaces reflect.
The stems sway with the steady wind,
sprout and spread to the old man's touch.
He's cultivated the tender soil; disciplined.
They've sprung their beauty over the monotony.
You'll be remiss to find another soul,
tending the garden so.
For this old folk,
stands on his balcony alone.
Decades past, before the towers scraped the sky,
this old man's balcony sat high over steady waters.
Back then, he and his wife sowed the seeds to these flowers.
While they smiled and laughed,
the flowers grew, but so too did the city.
Towers rose and the people shifted in the streets.
Though a child that man could not bear,
his flowers and wife were plenty.
The old man has grown old and she's since passed.
The flowers remain, steadfast.
To his dying day, he'll toil.
About the soil,
their beauty will hang from the rails.