On a hillside,
behind the abandoned plant,
a grouping of flowers bloom.
Despite the chimney's outpour,
they stand in solitude and grace.
I see them each morning,
as the bus speeds the corner,
the train blocks them from my sight when I catch the 8:45,
all the more reason to leave at dawn.
to see my beauties in the dew and rising glow,
to know they are just beyond that weary building once again.
On a hillside,
past the concrete mess,
real beauty begins.
