LET ME GROW
BY PHOEBE WAGNER
In a damp quiet nook I stood bright purple petals bloomed from my stem the sun wrapped me in a warm glaze the rain was like touches of joy the crow sang all morning long and the night sparkled with stars.
A cracked house twisted with vines towered above me insides lonely and dull it stood, perched high on bare cement all life drained from its gray walls.
To find color you would have to find me a burst of color from a crack in the ground. Because sometimes the most beautiful things are in the least expected places.
…
One day, sunlight tangled in the tall oak tree, the people came.
Carrying sharp tools, they covered me in a thick layer of cement the pounding deafening.
Over and over, they pushed my leaves and compressed my colorful petals. I couldn’t breathe.
Days passed and my flower wilted my bright green stem turned to a rusty brown.
“Let me grow, ” I cried. Every night I would.
If only I could have a chance to be heard.