Cracks in this decrepit sidewalk,
Jagged…from narrow to wide to narrow again,
Desolate except for the weeds that call them home.
I tread carefully, almost gingerly,
To avoid bridging the divide,
To avoid crushing the resilient squatters.
Fragile are their tender shoots,
Breaking at the slightest tug,
Recoiling back into the safety of the crevasse.
Wounded they wait for confidence to return,
Only then rearing their heads above the horizon,
This act plays out continuously until the final stand.
The final stand when ripped out by the root,
Poisoned ‘til they shrivel up and die,
Or trampled to oblivion.
Stunted and savaged,
We will never know for sure
Whether they be weeds
…Or perhaps the most beautiful of wildflowers.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~