Sow, so to nary Reap the Rose
Plant those seeds
where beauty has taken aback seat.
Even though, some say,
there is no place for flowers on skid row.
Water just enough to keep viable;
slow to grow is slow to die, you know.
Roots of sinew, they break concrete.
Now, burgeoned from keystone,
nowise can defeat.
They can take it from here;
they will blossom on their own.
Passersby may not ask,
which came first,
the rose or the crack?