Urban Roses

Each morning I lift my blind to stare
Into the concrete garden where
The love we planted in each other’s grown
Tangled and wiry, rooted in stone.
Not softly yielding as flowers grow,
But coarse and spiked with thorns as though
Proof to the world that roots can claw
Through scars of earth to rock, and draw
Strength from granite – and stonily
Hold back the world from you and me.

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