The Concrete Garden

I peer through thick, dirt streaked glass,

at a towering labyrinth of stone and metal.

It is a garden, flourishing in a field of black asphalt.

Thick stalks with no blooms, stretching further

towards a hazed sky that is no longer blue

but a heavy grey, opaque and empty.

These flowers grow even where the sun does not reach,

stretching taller and wider, greedily devouring

the land around them until nothing is left

but concrete and glass, a colorless tangle of harden stalks

that refuse to bend in the wind and bow to the rain.