Rose Growing On Concrete

I imagine how it would be

A rose growing on concrete.

Quite a sight! Truly motivational.

The sight alone would leave the mind so perplexed

For how could such a beautiful thing

Emerge from such a hard, lifeless place?

Still bloom and show off its crimson red

The red not associated with wounds but with Life.

I imagine how it would be

 A rose growing on concrete.

To stare and gaze and be bemused by the creation

So small in size but monumental in the notion...

“Anything is possible”.

Then the thought, “am I a rose?”

Introspection, self actualisation.

Then I imagined how I would be

Finally becoming what I have been imagining.

Having made it past the challenges, meandering.

Ducked the bullets of giving up,

Even when shot, saved by the vest of hope.

In imagining how I would be,

Flourishing, nurtured by the rays...

Having turned my lemons into lemonade

The taste alone of the lemonade would be the sweetest.

Overcoming, superseding the bitterness

I need not imagine how I will be

For I am a rose growing on concrete.

Thirsty for more, of life, more life.

At times drained by the mediocrity of equilibrium,

I push through the cement for just a glimpse of the Sun.

I am a rose growing on concrete

With roots stretching, burgeoning.

Forming the firm foundation of my being.

I await the day the petals will open up

Releasing a gush of a perpetual fragrance, Hope.

To finally bloom and show off my crimson red

The red not associated with wounds but with Life.

I am a rose growing on concrete.

VUMA D