With no thought to consequence,
The seed,
abandoned in the bustle,
sprouts through the concrete trap,
tender and unabashed.
The happy green,
stark against the steel garden,
sways in the exhaust breeze.
The lonely green,
foreign in the global buzz,
dodges clattering heels and whipping coattails.
The dying green,
drowns in shadows,
burning in thirst,
perishes, unnoticed.
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