Is it sad that life lacks the poetic flare
But that is only if you are blind
For I find the flare is everywhere
In the chipped white painted cement ***
Were dead plants lay to rot
In the lightly faded red brick buildings
That businesses reside in
But over head in night times
One can see the light shines
And finds a friendly face
Here perhaps those cracked sidewalks
Were children use to jump and say
That is the way we crack our mothers back
The root that saw such sidewalks rise
Slowly pushing out of the earth until
The sidewalks wears a rising crack
And that is only the nonliving things
That catch my fancy
Wait till you see how nature inspires me