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City flower
Under the leaking roof,
terraced semi property,
the asphalt cracked like a face,
torn by anguish and misery,
there grew the white dandelion,
whispering in the wind,
for a breeze to carry it away,
to a different suburb,
a different city,
where the sun shines a bit more,
the days just feel a bit less cold,
and the nights a bit less long,
where the morning hits a bit less strong,
and the evening doesn't arrive so early,
but alas,
the dandelion had to wait,
it wasn't yet the season,
so it looks at the street,
and imagines the summer wind


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