Scribbles on a yellow notepad, this ink won't last Letting sweat dry from a long walk, half way there I didn't notice it on my first passing, or my second Third time is the charm they say, don't they? Now I sit in this scummy drainage ditch, writing A tree, growing from a pile of waste concrete Dumped carelessly by rough, tired, hands Green leaves adorn it, this oddity, only a sapling Like a flower on the peak of Mount Everest Or an ice cube in the middle of the Gobi This is not so grand, this urban contradiction Some day it will be as tall as me, maybe taller Stretching its limbs, eroding its base Praising sun rays through photosynthesis Pushing down roots through man made constructions Reclaiming the soil from which all life springs & returns