As I walked, I spotted
On the ground in the cracks
Of cement, a flower.
A ****, yes, but a flower
Nonetheless. It was trampled flat
Though still alive, reaching a leaf
For sunlight, help. I went by.

Yet still it hangs on my mind.
Still I see it reaching out,
Crying, wondering what it did
To deserve this. It remains like
The lost child: unsure, panicked, dejected.

As I walked, I spotted,
On the ground in the cracks
Of cement, a different flower.
A ****, yes, but a flower
Nonetheless. It was stretched out
Tall, full, bloomed, looking towards
The sunlight and reveling in it.
I picked it and put it in a vase.